The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions
by Boo-82
Summary: Date: November 10, 2005. Time: 16:00h. Inspection location: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. Number of house-elves in possession: 4. Visiting inspectors: 2005001 and 2005002. Supervising inspector: Hermione Granger. Family contact: Draco Malfoy. A Dramione Christmas story. Revised November 2012.
1. Prologue Hermione

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 1: First Inspection**

**Chapter 1: Prologue Hermione**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, Enigmatic Soul

* * *

"Are you sure we don't have to come with you?" Ron asked for the umpteenth time, eyeing his girlfriend worriedly. He sat slouched in his chair, sipping his tea as he reached for another piece of toast. "Harry and I can easily make this an Auror-required mission, you know."

Hermione sighed and put her cutlery aside. "Yes Ron, I'm absolutely sure. Nothing's going to happen to me and besides I'm not alone. I have my inspectors with me and they are trained by your actual Aurors to deal with problematic situations."

For weeks he had been trying to talk her into this and he simply refused to let it go. He didn't understand, though. Which was why she had declined his offer for help from his department time and time again.

Her remark received a faint mumble in agreement from the bespectacled young man next to her and she shot him grateful smile, though he was currently hiding behind The Daily Prophet. Probably from Ron's annihilating look. It was apparent that Ron had expected more support from his friend on this. But Harry actually seemed to agree with Hermione, though he was careful not to let himself drawn into the discussion.

"Still, I don't like it," Ron grumbled as he sat back in his creaking chair and folded his arms before his chest in a displeased manner. But Hermione only shook her head at this and brought her dishes to the sink. Mrs. Weasley's bewitched dishwashing brushes immediately started to clean them. "That's your problem. Get your cloak. We have to get going."

* * *

Merely seconds later, the three of them arrived at the Ministry of Magic, emerging from one of the enormous fireplaces in the Atrium. Hermione gave Ron a quick peck on the cheek, waved at Harry and then wove her way through the masses of civil servants heading for the lifts. The many Christmas trees decorating the hallway guided her way. Finally, she stepped into the lift that would take her to the fourth level and suppressed a sigh as the doors closed.

It was six weeks until Christmas.

After completing her education at Hogwarts almost seven years ago, Hermione had enrolled in the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and found a way of, as Ron always put it so encouragingly, getting paid for her loony obsession with house-elves. Within a year, she had managed to cause quite a lot of disturbance in the once so sleepy office, by initiating several projects to improve the life of house-elves.

The latest one had been the establishment of the Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions, which was something she had copied from the Muggle world. The inspectorate was to supervise and uphold the sharpened regulations on the treatment of house-elves. Regulations that had been drafted by her.

A few months ago, after the Minister had approved of her little project, she had started to select and train the wizards and witches who would be appointed as inspectors. She had also made sure that the soon-to-be inspectors received a thorough training in defensive charms by both Aurors and Hit Wizards. And although Ron seemed to take a different view, Hermione was actually well aware of the dangerous situations the inspectors might be facing while performing their duties. After all, most house-elves worked for the wealthy, old, pureblood wizarding families whose ties with the Dark Side during the war had been a given. That's why she had decided to go with them in the first place.

Although Hermione appreciated that Ron worried about her safety, it stung a little that he seemed to think she needed protection. At least Harry trusted her ability to deal with problems if and when they might occur. She had tried to explain to Ron that the presence of Aurors during the inspections would only do damage to the willingness to cooperate with the new inspectorate. But if he chose to not to accept that, she wasn't going to fight him over it.

Stepping out of the lift Hermione greeted her colleagues and went to into her office with the enchanted window displaying a leaden sky that indicated the arrival of snow. Then she started to add the final touches on the first round of inspections this week.

* * *

A soft knock on the open door to her office pulled Hermione's attention from the plan she had been writing. Looking up she noticed the bespectacled man leaning against the doorpost. He studied her with a contemplating look in his green eyes as she straightened herself and put down her quill.

Hermione smiled. "Harry. What can I do for you?"

For a moment, he hesitated and ran a hand through his already unwieldy hair. It seemed as if he didn't know how to begin.

"You know I'm fully supportive of what you do, don't you?" He then asked without so much of an introduction. He didn't seem to expect a response.

Hermione's smile slowly disappeared as he straightened up and stepped into her office to take a seat on the uncomfortable chair opposite her simple desk. The young woman on the other side inconspicuously drew in a shallow breath as she braced herself for what she'd already expected to come. She knew what he was aiming at and she knew that he was serious about this.

An apologetic grin appeared on Harry's face and broke the sudden tension between them. "Well, that was rather awkward, don't you think? I do mean it, though. I actually do understand better than Ron what you're trying to accomplish with the house-elves. After all, I grew up in the Muggle world too and I do know a thing or two about anti-discrimination and equal rights. But," he added as his expression turned serious, "I also think Ron's right in being worried about you."

Hermione didn't respond, but instead rested her chin in her hand, watching him with a thoughtful expression on her face. She waited for him to come to the point, a stubborn look appearing in her eyes, which didn't go by unnoticed. Harry's features grew more serious when he noticed this gaze of hers he was well familiar with and he bowed forward.

"Listen Hermione," he said a bit more urgently. "Are you sure you want to do this? What you're asking of yourself?"

Hermione lowered her gaze for a moment as she realised that he saw through her. Ron had merely been worried about 'those filthy Death Eaters families' she had to encounter and to be honest, she had been secretly glad that was all he seemed to fuss about. Harry had always been the more observant of the two, though. And his worry was much more fundamental and far more difficult to put to rest.

She swallowed back a lump that threatened to form in her throat, hoping he hadn't seen the list on her desk containing the families to be visited, two days from now. She had made her decision a long time ago and, although she could understand Harry and Ron's worries, she wasn't prepared to give in.

"I know what I'm asking of myself, Harry, but I'm not changing my mind on this. The inspectors need my guidance," she said firmly, following the familiar line of defense she used against Ron's objections.

When he shook his head dismissively and he open his mouth to speak, Hermione bowed forward. "I've been back to Hogwarts, Harry, and that was for a whole year," she cut him off on a more pleading tone. "I think I can manage this one, too."

It was the first time she ever hinted at reasons for her to do this and her heartbeat sped up when she heard the slight tremble lacing her voice. Of course, Harry immediately noticed and he narrowed his eyes. As his wary gaze turned penetrating she felt that he tried to establish whether to believe her or not and she set her jaw as he slightly inclined his head and let a silence descend on the Spartan office.

For a moment, none of them moved but then Harry let out a sigh and he cast a look at the enchanted window. Hermione let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding, but blanched when he spoke up. His voice was soft, almost resigned, but held a hint of reproach and urgency that demanded her to think about this one last time.

"Then do you know what you're asking of them, of him, Hermione?" He asked while continuing to look out the window. "Their situation is already precarious as it is and your plans might as well bring more damage to them than it would to you. You know they can't refuse Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio, even if they want to. Are you prepared to bear responsibility for that, too?"

Hermione froze at his words and for a moment was speechless when he turned his stern, green eyes to her. She hadn't. Not one moment had it occurred to her - the risks her plan might hold for them, for... him. All she had been thinking about was the inspectorate and herself.

But, he was right. Of course, he was right. She should have taking this into account. Harry was especially protective of this family he owed his life to. Suddenly, she felt her resolve, which had been solid as a rock, slip through her fingers like grains of sand. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes, willing herself to keep remembering her reasons for going. Her voice held a husky tone when she spoke. "I... I will keep that mind."

She flinched when she heard his heartfelt sigh in response, but when he didn't contradict her anymore, she looked up at him, pleadingly. "I need this, Harry. Let me do this. Please."

* * *

The cold morning was still dark when Hermione got up before everyone else, to discover that, for the first time this season, snow had fallen this night. The world had turned white, glistening icily in the last beams of the disappearing moonlight.

She carefully dressed herself in fine woollen caramel robes that coloured nicely with her eyes but above all were warm enough for the upcoming day. Then she put on a scarf with the Ministry of Magic emblem on it. _Ignorantia juris neminem excusat_, read the bronze embroidery surrounding the letter M that now rested on her chest. Ignorance of the law excuses no one.

'Very appropriate for the task ahead,' Hermione thought ironically as she closed the front door and plodded through the fresh snow, heading for the Apparition shed. Then, as the early morning sky started to colour blood red with the rising sun, she Apparated to her first destination.

* * *

Hermione felt a little satisfied. All morning she had accompanied the inspectors on their visits to wizarding families who owned house-elves and although the Notts and the Puceys had not been overly enthusiastic about their visit, they opened their houses easily enough for them. The fear for Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio, still ran deep within the families who had supported Voldemort in one way or another.

The sight of their houses had filled Hermione with slight melancholy. As she had quietly followed the inspectors, her gaze had wandered over the silk wallpapered corridors. There were empty spots in the pattern where paintings used to hang, not too long ago. The once great estates and manors had become quiet, as sometimes almost every family member had been sent off to Azkaban. The few who were left behind, had sold off a lot of property in order to work up the still severe reparation payments as the goblins at Gringotts had often frozen their bank accounts.

* * *

She felt relieved when they left the downcast Pucey Estate and Apparated to Diagon Alley for lunch. They ordered sandwiches and the inspectors, a young witch and wizard, chattered excitedly about the fallen state of the houses they had just inspected, until Hermione reminded them rather sharply of their position of trust. Taken aback, they had silently finished their sandwiches while Hermione had only fumbled with hers. She willed herself to take a few small bites, but her eyes were drawn to the clock almost every ten seconds. Slowly, she felt herself tense up and doubt crept into her heart as the seconds imperturbably ticked away.

Was she really ready? In front of Harry she had held on to her resolve for dear life, but as the ending of lunchtime neared, she felt her heart sink into her boots as she thought about what would happen if she lost control. Her heartbeat quickened and she took in a deep breath as she forced her attention to the inspectors quietly speaking with each other. To her relief the panic subsided somewhat at seeing their unsuspecting expressions.

Finally, Hermione put aside the remainder of her sandwich and unfolded her list, though she didn't need to look at what had been written on the parchment in her neat handwriting to know what it read.

"What family are we going to visit next, Miss Granger?" One of the inspectors had noticed her bringing out the list and took it as their cue to leave.

Hermione looked up absentmindedly, seeing two pairs of eyes watching her expectantly. For a moment, she closed her eyes and willed herself to regain a professional attitude before she answered in an even tone of voice.

"The Malfoy family, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire."

* * *

_After the ending of the Second Wizarding War, only very few former seventh-years students had accepted Headmistress McGonagall's invitation to return to Hogwarts and finish their education. Their numbers had not nearly been able to conceal the gap the war had left in the student body. _

_Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy had been one of them._

_Hermione could still remember the moment when she and the other eighth-years rose to the applause of the other students after the ending of the Sorting Ceremony. She had used the moment to look around and see who else had returned. It appeared that the only Gryffindor present had been her and she had recognised a few Ravenclaws. There had been no Hufflepuffs to return. Then she had slightly turned around to cast a glance at the Slytherin Table and was actually surprised to see that over there one person had straightened up as well. Her eyes caught the sight of a blond young man, tall in his dark robes, looking especially uncomfortable under the attention. Contrary to the other eighth-years he wasn't looking around in search for familiar faces, but kept his gaze fixed on the Head Table, until he seemed to feel her gaze resting on him and he slightly turned around._

_A shock had gone through Hermione when her former nemesis, Draco Malfoy, met her gaze for a fleeting moment, before he sat down again. A shock she shared with the entire student body when they recognised the Slytherin._

_If Malfoy had noticed their reactions to his presence, he didn't show it. Ignoring the many furtive looks that had been cast at him afterwards, he had kept his eyes down for the remainder of the evening and refrained from interacting with the other Slytherins. The moment dinner had ended he had disappeared from Hermione's sight._

_During the days following their return to Hogwarts, Hermione noticed that, devoid of his perpetual bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle and without Parkinson hanging off his arm, Malfoy seemed lost to the point of loneliness. The story of his family's betrayal of the Dark Lord had become common knowledge when the Malfoys had barely avoided imprisonment in Azkaban and while the rest of the school avoided him as the Death Eater they still held him for, his fellow Slytherins treated him with the utmost caution. They feared the young man as his family had belonged to Voldemort's inner circle, while at the same time they felt betrayed by the Malfoys who ultimately had deserted the Dark Lord. Due to his still frightening posture and demeanour, they didn't dare to bully him though, so they settled for simply ignoring him as he quietly sat at his House Table. _

_During the first weeks of the school year Hermione noticed that he didn't seem to care though. As she stole a glance at him once in a while she found that something had changed about him she couldn't quite put a finger on but which started to fascinate her immensely, to her own chagrin. Perhaps it was in the way his Slytherin tie was perfectly tied, in contrast to the former pubescent sloppiness. Perhaps it was in the way he kept to himself like he had never done before, his scowls and disdain replaced by a stony indifference to his environment. He had stopped picking fights with her, lowering his gaze whenever they met in the corridors. _

_And while she had chosen the same subjects as the Slytherin, Hermione had often seen him sitting alone in a desk which was almost too small for his long limbs, an impassive expression on his face as he took notes as if that was the only thing left for him to do. It probably was._

* * *

**A/N:** _This is the first chapter of my first Dramione story, taking place seven years after the ending of DH. Naturally, it's not epilogue compliant. In this story, Hermione has created a labour inspection for house-elves following her old wish to make life better for them. But accompanying the new inspectors she trained, also means that she will be stepping by Malfoy Manor and meet again with Draco Malfoy..._

_About the story: when writing this story I had the books (not the films) in mind. Nevertheless, I've used some elements from the films I liked, such as the school uniforms. The italic parts are flashbacks. The story will follow the pattern of an inspection cycle, with chapter titles that will be named after several important moments taking place during such an inspection cycle._

_Feel free to review! I love reading reviews. _


	2. Regulation 1: Workplace and Equipment

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 1: First Inspection**

**Chapter 2: Regulation 1: Workplace and Equipment**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, Heart of Courage

* * *

It had been more than six years, but it unexpectedly felt like yesterday that she had been standing on this exact same spot, looking at the elegant, wrought-iron gate that protected the estate behind it from the outside world. Behind the fence, she could see the white peacocks strutting around on the only spot of impeccable grass in the glistening white gardens that had been cleared from snow.

"Wow." The inspectors were heavily impressed as they looked around. "White peacocks."

A bitter smile involuntarily ghosted over Hermione's lips when she looked up at the all too familiar, stately country-house. For some reason, it relieved her that Malfoy Manor seemed not to have fallen into decay like the previously inspected homes, though the sight evoked a fear, reminiscent of that moment back then, far more violent than she had expected. Subconsciously, Hermione put a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself. She reminded herself that there was nothing to fear anymore and remembered how she'd told Harry that she could do this. She couldn't back down now. Not when she was so close.

'Courage, Hermione', she mentally admonished herself and with a slightly trembling hand she let her list disappear. Then she closed her eyes and readied herself. It was time. More than time.

Following her two inspectors, Hermione stepped forward and felt herself temporarily reduce to smoke when she passed through the gate.

* * *

_It was somewhere around Halloween, when the pelting rain mercilessly beat the leaded windows of the ancient castle, that Ginny fell ill and failed to attend Potions class. Hermione could still remember the various grinning jack o' lanterns in the corners of the classroom, that seemed to mock her bewilderment, when Professor Slughorn decided to partner her up with Draco Malfoy for the duration of the double period of Potions. She also remembered the painful silence that descended on the normally boisterous group of seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins as Malfoy__ silently took in Professor Slughorn's instruction, then slowly untangled himself from his desk and turned around. For the second time that year their gazes met. The look in his cool, grey eyes was wary, but to Hermione's surprise, he didn't object to the Professor's decision. Instead, he simply gave a curt nod and gathered his books to sit down next to her. Hermione couldn't suppress her body growing rigid at Malfoy's sudden proximity, but Professor Slughorn seemed to be the only one not to feel the awkwardness of the situation as a satisfied smile spread across his face._

_After a moment in which neither of them moved, Hermione drew in a wary breath and took the initiative by opening her Potions book. Without comment, Malfoy reached for his silver knife and started to follow her directions as they started to make preparations for the potion they were supposed to brew in class._

_For a few minutes the other students watched their eighth-year classmates getting started on their potion until they realised that neither of them was going to make the scene they hoped for and they lost interest. _

_The boisterous atmosphere returned as Hermione read the instructions on a hushed tone, while Malfoy skillfully cut and bruised the ingredients and added them to the substance Hermione stirred the way the book described. _

_When the Potion eventually took on the silvery colour it was supposed to have, Hermione realised that Malfoy was good at Potions. She had never thought him to be stupid, not like his gorilla-like friends at least, but the favouritism displayed by Professor Snape toward Malfoy had always clouded her judgment on his behalf. Somehow, seeing his actual talent at this subject eased a little of the bitterness she had always felt about that._

_However, the biggest surprise came when Hermione read the next instruction in the book, stating that they needed to add a little aconite. Suddenly, she paused and narrowed her eyes in thought. _

"_That can't be right," she remarked involuntarily, but before she had time to realise whom she was talking to, Malfoy added evenly, "It will counteract the effects of the thorn-apple."_

"_Precisely," Hermione agreed in astonishment, shocked about his both civil and expert answer. Speechlessly, she watched as he stood up and went to ask Professor Slughorn for some taxus instead._

_When he came back, he neatly cut the taxus into small portions and added it to the brew, waiting impassively for Hermione to finish the stirring. _

_As she did so, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. They had just been working together for more than an hour in an almost companionable silence and the naturalness of their cooperation astounded her. __Inconspicuously, she studied his sharp profile, wondering about the change in him, her former nemesis who had just treated her collegially. As always nowadays, he sat perfectly still, his cool grey eyes fixed on the steaming cauldron before him. His expression was aloof, unreadable as he waited patiently for the Professor to assess their potion. Once again, she felt intrigued by the blond Slytherin._

_Finally, he seemed to notice her stare because his face darkened. Of course, ever since his arrival at Hogwarts he must obviously been aware of the students' eyes following him with suspicious scrutiny everywhere he went. It was a painful introduction to an experience Harry had went through regularly before, often by Malfoy's doing. But Hermione held no grudge and something in the way he refrained from commenting on her looking at him, stimulated her curiosity. When she finished the stirring, she hesitantly put away her wand and fixed her gaze on the steaming cauldron too. Then Hermione drew in a deep breath._

"_Why have you come back to Hogwarts, Malfoy?"_

_The tentatively asked question suddenly broke the carefully maintained silence between them and lingered in the air long after the quiet sound had dissolved in the collective noise of a NEWT-class. Hermione saw Malfoy flinch slightly. _

_A parrying expression momentarily passed over his features, before he drawled coldly, "I wasn't aware that I'm not entitled to complete my education, Granger."_

_Her eyes widened, then a frown knitted her eyebrows together. "That's not what I meant…" she started to defend herself, then clapped her mouth shut and mumbled disappointedly, "Forget it."_

_That was right. His sharp words reminded her of whom she was talking to and with his comment he had drawn the line between them. _

_Hermione looked up at the small cellar window above, suddenly painfully aware of the uncomfortable position they were in. Had the desk almost been too small for him alone, together they were trapped in it with no possible way to keep their arms and legs from touching. In a vain attempt to avoid him, Hermione aimlessly started to pile up some books, hoping for class to be over soon. Therefore, she didn't see the quick glance he shot her as what looked like doubt or perhaps even insecurity momentarily flashed across his face._

"_Anything to get away from home." A voice then suddenly spoke up next to her. Hermione looked up in bewilderment but he avoided her gaze as he stared stoically at the dusty blackboard. Had Draco Malfoy just answered her question in honest? In some sort of confession even?_

"_Wh... what?" She asked uncertainly, unsure if she had heard it right._

_His mouth tightened at her confused response but he kept his eyes from meeting hers. "You heard me," he then said curtly and started to put away his books, before standing up. _

_Their potion won twenty points for each of their Houses._

* * *

When Hermione and inspectors had walked down the long drive way and at long last arrived at the castle like manor the front door was opened in a somewhat forceful, but still controlled manner. Someone, not the house-elf Hermione had expected, appeared in the doorway. She looked up and immediately recognized the young blond man, looking down on them with a reserved gaze in his steel grey eyes. It was Draco Malfoy. His family had probably thought it best to answer the door themselves, to make a good impression on the labour inspectors.

Standing tall between the visitors and the hallway, Malfoy resignedly listened to the inspectors starting to explain their business with the Malfoy family, while Hermione studied him inconspicuously.

He had changed little since she'd seen him last at Hogwarts, she noticed. His chiseled features had matured, making him even more handsome than she could remember and his shoulders had broadened some more. The biggest difference, however, was his clothing. Apparently he had abandoned the black, which always had seemed a favourite colour of him, as he was wearing an anthracite suit with a light grey polo-neck. It made him look somewhat softer, less severe.

His cold, grey eyes wandered over to her and something flickered in them which she couldn't quite place, before his gaze came to rest on her scarf's emblem. "Granger," he said tonelessly, "I didn't know you would be honoring us with your presence."

Hermione's brows furrowed slightly. "I'm accompanying the inspectors on their first week to make sure everything goes well."

"How very… diligent of you," he replied with slight sarcasm and stepped aside to let her in.

* * *

_Winter came and frost-flowers decorated the windows of the ancient castle, when Ginny was placed under Madam Pomfrey's care after an unfortunate accident on her second Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. It was then that Professor Slughorn once again paired up Hermione with Malfoy, gloating over the unexpected windfall as he recalled the excellent quality of their last potion._

_Hermione hadn't spoken with Malfoy since that last time they had worked together months ago, but for an occasional nod in the library. Apparently, he had discovered that the militantly maintained silence in there was in fact very fruitful for things like studying instead of sneaking away with Pansy Parkinson. Hermione had grown accustomed to his presence there as he seemed to appreciate the peaceful atmosphere. A flee from the Slytherin Common Room, no doubt. _

_Her gaze now wandered to the young man that sat lonely in the front, seemingly unaware of Ginny's absence, though he had yet to unpack his bag which he normally would have done already. And when Slughorn called his name, he merely picked up his satchel and crossed the classroom in a few long strides. Slughorn then smilingly instructed them to brew potion number 164 and walked off._

_Hermione felt a little lost as she, once again, found herself squeezed into the small desk with Malfoy, a tin cauldron in front of them. The Slytherin didn't move, apparently waiting for her to get her book, just like the last time they had to work together. Hesitantly, she stretched out a hand and grabbed her book from the desk, looking up potion number 164. _

_The brew looked rather difficult to make and she sighed subconsciously. This could take all of their double period Potions today. _

_Her head shot up when she heard a low whistle next to her. Startled, she turned to look at the blond young man who slightly leaned in, his gaze fixed on the book in her hands._

"_That potion is worth more than ten galleons a liter on Diagon Alley," Malfoy mumbled, his brows slightly furrowed as his eyes read the instructions in her book. His words slowly sunk in as Hermione's gaze went from the cauldron to the book. "But this cauldron is…"_

"_Nearly ten liters," he finished her sentence for her. Sharp, silver eyes then rose to meet with Hermione's and lingered there for a moment, before their features softened momentarily in a fleeting smile._

* * *

The familiarity of the hallway struck Hermione when she passed Malfoy, feeling his eyes burning in her back as he closed the door behind her. She let down her hood as her gaze wandered across the lavishly decorated entrance, the exclusive marble on the floor, the magnificent staircase, the valuable and elegant portraits hanging from the silk clad walls. Nothing had really changed, except for the rich flower bouquets that hadn't been there before and added a delicate scent to the overwhelmingly luxurious atmosphere.

For a moment, she was surprised at the easiness with which she seemed to be able to take in the familiar surroundings but then her eyes flashed across the grand staircase her breath was caught off by resurfacing memories of cloaked Death Eaters surrounding her, the cackling laugh of Bellatrix LeStrange and an excruciating pain. Somewhere up there was that drawing room, the room she feared the most. And wanted to see back more than anything.

The front door closed with a majestic, echoing sound which snapped Hermione back to reality. The sound was followed by light footsteps on the marble floor, which eventually disappeared in the grand Persian rug that covered most of the marble floor.

"If you'll follow me, the kitchen is this way." Malfoy's voice suddenly spoke up next to her. Startled, Hermione turned around to meet with a wary gaze in piercing, grey eyes. He had seen her gaze fixed on the staircase and he understood what was going through her right now, she realised with a pang of fear in her stomach. When he turned around and led the way to the kitchen with brisk strides, it seemed like he loathed to be reminded of it too.

* * *

_On the last Quidditch training day before winter break, the sun growing weaker sent beams of warm light into the dusky Potions Classroom and the sky had been clear blue, safe for a single cloud which lazily passed the cellar window above as Hermione sat down and unpacked her books, looking at the door in anticipation. She already knew that Ginny wouldn't join her over class today._

_When Malfoy entered the classroom, he went over to his desk as usual, but before sitting down, he turned around and cast a glance at Hermione. She nodded slowly in acknowledgement and a moment later the Slytherin sat down next to her, looking at her from the corner of his eye._

"_Training?" He then asked simply but not unfriendly. His gaze flitted restlessly toward the window from where the sound of voices calling drifted inside. _

"_Yes," Hermione confirmed, as she grabbed her book from the stack on her table. Next Saturday Gryffindor would be playing against Slytherin._

_Upon his own arrival, Professor Slughorn's full face lit up in delight when he saw his eighth-year students sharing a desk once more. He rubbed his hands when he sauntered over to them and with glistening eyes instructed them to brew potion number 257, before turning around._

"_Ehm, Professor…?" Hermione's voice then piped up and Malfoy looked up watchfully as Slughorn turned on his heels. "Yes, Miss Granger?"_

_The Professor's sudden tense features softened when Hermione smiled up at him sweetly. "Might I suggest another potion for us to brew? Something more… challenging?"_

_Confusion and slight irritation momentarily passed over Malfoy's face as he watched Hermione opening her book and handing it over to the Potions Professor, still smiling. He wasn't sure what she was doing and if he wanted to have a part in it. Warily, his eyes followed the Professor as he bowed over the page eagerly, then suddenly turned purple, shoved the book back in Hermione's hands and with a curt nod hurried away. _

_Malfoy's eyebrows had raised in mild surprise at the Professor's reaction and, despite himself, curiously leaned forward to examine the book, especially interested in the page Hermione had pointed out. Then his eyes widened slightly. Underneath the name of each potion Hermione had written down the expected profit in galleons. The highest amount would be for the potion she had suggested to Professor Slughorn. _

_When Hermione stood to make preparations for the potion they were about to brew, she heard a muffled sound next to her and she turned to see that Malfoy was biting back his laughter, while his eyes glistened with sincere admiration._

_And for once, she was glad with her bushy hair to hide her fierce blush._

* * *

The kitchen was big. Not as big as the ones at Hogwarts, but still huge. The inspectors came to a stop for a moment, gaping at the magnificent stoves, the marble floors and the gigantic rough-wooden table with short table-legs in the center. High placed windows let in the sunlight and a small staircase, specially made for house-elves, led to the kitchen-garden outside.

When Malfoy entered the kitchen, leading the way for the inspectors, the house-elves had lined up before the low table. There were four of them, each one dressed in spotless, white pillow-cases. Their big ears bobbed a little as they stretched their fragile necks to look up at the visitors with big, true-hearted eyes.

Malfoy kept the door open for Hermione and the inspectors, before quickly walking down the three steps of the small staircase. He cast a restless gaze at the enormous space as he leaned against the banister, across from Hermione, arms crossed before his chest.

Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye, for the first time sensing a little nervousness with him. A smug smile tugged at her lips. Good, he should be nervous. After all, his family didn't have a good reputation when it came to the treatment of house-elves. She had to admit though, that her first impression of the four elves lined up before her was the best of all of the houses the inspectors had visited until now, not to mention the fact that the entire kitchen was made at level with the house-elves. It actually surprised her.

Her eyes carefully followed the inspectors as they waved their wands while muttering a charm and two long scrolls appeared with a pop. The parchment was crammed with difficult looking diagrams of connections and endless questionnaires for the inspectors to fill in. They started with asking the house-elves their names.

"Those are your making?" Malfoy suddenly mumbled, his gaze fixed on the parchment floating in the air, as quills started to fill in every instruction the two inspectors gave them. "I'd say yes," he continued with a sneer before she could respond, though a hint of friendliness softened his tone. "Those forms look like the inspectors needed at least three years of training just to understand them."

For a moment, Hermione looked at him searchingly, but he seemed to mean no harm and she averted her eyes to the inspectors, smiling quietly. "Only three months," she admitted. "Along with other training."

The inspectors had moved from the house-elves to the kitchen itself, and charmed tape-measures laid themselves against table-legs and kitchen units, while the Ministry officials wandered around, pulling open drawers to inspect the equipment stored in there. With white gloves they went past almost every part of the kitchen, examining its safety, closely followed by a pair of intense silver eyes.

When they were finished, Malfoy turned around and nodded silently before ascending the small staircase once more. The inspectors and Hermione followed suit.

* * *

_Christmas always was the most beautiful time of the year at Hogwarts, when Hagrid dragged gigantic trees into the castle and Professor Flitwick decorated them with delicate glass and silver ornaments. Outside as well as inside the castle downy snowflakes fell from the leaden sky and students used their last hours at Hogwarts to go ice-skating on the frozen pond, before the Hogwarts train would take them home._

_Hermione had spent all morning packing her trunk, but before she was to leave, she went to visit the Great Hall and watch the Professors make preparations for Christmas. For a while, she had just been standing there, relishing in the feeling of gratitude for being able to witness this spectacle once more. Tears silently rolled down her cheeks without her noticing it, until a big handkerchief was put into her hand and a voice with a Scottish accent she recognized as belonging to the Headmistress said, "I know."_

_The normally distant woman then pulled Hermione into a quick hug and smiled. "Off you go now. The train won't wait."_

_Hermione gave Professor McGonagall a watery smile and turned around to head for the entrance when her gaze was drawn to a person with light blond hair looking at her, frozen in his steps apparently when passing the entrance to the Great Hall. Malfoy. Hermione's eyes widened._

_He was staring at her, his cool gaze focused intently on her wet cheeks as a somber expression darkened his own features._

_The moment their gazes crossed, he flinched and lowering his eyes, he disappeared around the corner quickly. Hermione stared after him as mixed feelings went through her. Despite feeling caught in this vulnerable moment by Malfoy of all people, she had also noticed that he was still in his school robes and not dragging a trunk with him. It was clear he wasn't going home for the holidays. _

_When Hermione stepped into the carriage that would bring her to the Entrance Gates half an hour later, he appeared again on the stairs of the castle, a sharp silhouette against the warm light streaming from the hallway. His Slytherin scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck, the green and grey wool touching the slightly curling tips of his blond hair. He followed Hermione with his eyes as she got into the carriage, his gaze resting on the little window that hid her from view. _

_Hermione felt a pang of pity in her stomach when she looked at his lonely figure, his features unreadable from where she was seated in the carriage. After a moment's hesitance, she opened the window and leaned forward. When their eyes met, he held her gaze for a moment, then the carriage set into motion and the last thing she saw of him was his black cloak billowing in the cold winter wind._

-x-x-x-

_It was easy to forget about Malfoy when Hermione arrived at the Burrow on Christmas Eve and became absorbed immediately by the Weasleys, their warm home and her parents who were also there. But when the night was over, the first presents unpacked and Hermione sat on the windowsill of Ginny's bedroom with rosy cheeks, watching the softly falling snow as she listened to the girl's even breathing, her thoughts trailed back to Malfoy. And she caught herself wondering how his evening had been, at school, celebrating Christmas Eve with only a few teachers and students who ignored him. The atmosphere at home must have been very tight, if he preferred that above going home for Christmas. _

_Quietly, Hermione reached for her wand and whispered, "Expecto Patronum!"_

_She had a slight smile on her face when she watched the otter disappear and went to bed, too._

-x-x-x-

_Her return to Hogwarts after Christmas had been a quiet one. Since Ron and Harry had to work during the days between Christmas and New Years Eve, Hermione decided to go back to Hogwarts early. That way, she could study for the upcoming NEWTs and give Ginny some private time with her mother. _

_By lack of students present, the House Tables in the Great Hall had been replaced by one table, as was tradition with Christmas. And as she had expected, Malfoy was there when Hermione entered the Great Hall for dinner. He sat somewhat apart from two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw second-year, a Slytherin first-year and a fourth-year from Gryffindor, whom she recognized as Dennis Creevey. After some hesitation, she bridged the gap between the eighth-year Slytherin and the Ravenclaw, causing the younger students to look up in surprise. But Hermione merely greeted them politely, then turned to meet with an aloof look in silver grey eyes. _

_For a moment none of them spoke, then Malfoy's gaze softened somewhat as he said, "Merry Christmas to you too, Granger."_

_Hermione smiled slightly at the subtle but sincere gratitude in his quiet reply. _

_Outside, the wind howled around the ancient castle and a stormy night sky swirled in the ceiling above them as their golden plates were filled with steaming food. _

_And at the Head Table, the Headmistress allowed herself an indulgent smile._

* * *

**A/N:** _I would like to thank Cathymalfoy for her encouraging review, which was a delight to read._

_The story really has started now as Hermione has returned to Malfoy Manor and we find out more about Hermione and Draco's repeated final year at Hogwarts. A year in which Draco's changed attitude, Hermione's curiosity and an occasional collaboration at Potion class have brought them closer than ever before._

_I hope you'll like this chapter and thank you for reading!_


	3. Regulation 2: Proportionate Working Hour

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 1: First Inspection**

**Chapter 3: Regulation 2: Proportionate Working Hours**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, Water Reflections

* * *

"The house-elves' bedrooms are located in the attic," Malfoy drawled as he turned around in front of the broad staircase in the entrance hall. "I expect the inspectors to remember that this is a private home as we cross the house to reach them."

Hermione raised her eyes to the vide upstairs as Malfoy spoke, her gaze drawn to the figure of a stately, blonde woman looking down on the visitors with cool, blue eyes. For a moment their gazes met, but if Narcissa Malfoy recognized Hermione, her aloof expression betrayed nothing.

She averted her eyes, when the inspectors opened their mouths to reassure Malfoy of their discretion, but he ignored them. Instead, his silver eyes rested on Hermione with a gloomy expression in them, which slightly resembled guilt. His gaze was reminiscent of that one Christmas Eve at Hogwarts, when he'd caught her crying in the Great Hall.

Hermione froze under his intense gaze, holding hers captive as all but his demanding look had vanished imperceptibly into the background. It was then that she suddenly realized in shock that Malfoy, like Harry, understood. Understood why she was here. And silently pleaded with her to reconsider.

He had already turned around to ascend the stairs with fast steps, when a surprised expression on the female inspector's features jolted Hermione back into reality and she followed Malfoy with a sinking feeling in her stomach. His warning gaze had frightened her and the blood suddenly pounded in her ears as she climbed the stairs, looking at the delicate colours of the antique Persian rug unseeingly.

She didn't notice when Narcissa Malfoy took her ringed hand from the banister and disappeared.

* * *

_The days between Christmas and New Years Eve were quiet ones in the deserted wizarding school. On her first day back, Hermione did some studying, wandered around the high bookcases in the library and enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere that had descended on the castle grounds. It felt nice having Hogwarts almost completely to herself, as if the peaceful silence of the empty corridors and quiet hallways suddenly extended to her mind, providing her with new room to think. Sitting by the cackling fire in the Gryffindor Common Room had become a bliss, as she could nestle on the old, shapeless couches with a book, without anyone disturbing her. _

_The following day, Hermione decided to go on a nighttime stroll through the castle. Being an eighth-year student, she wasn't bound to the bedtime curfew for younger students. She looked forward to walking along the long corridors without meeting anyone and watch the scarce moonlight create mysterious shadows on the ancient castle walls opposite from the Gothic, leaded windows. _

_For about an hour, she quietly wandered through the maze of hallways she'd come to know like the back of her hand in the past seven years, having no particular route in mind as she merely followed where her feet where taking her. Her unhurried footsteps echoed through the spacious corridors as the flickering flames of the torches engorged her shadow on the rough stone wall. _

_Outside, the weakly shining stars made place for another scurry. _

_Hermione rounded a corner and started to ascend a small, broad staircase in the middle of a corridor which, she knew, would ultimately lead to the Ravenclaw Tower. _

_At that moment, the silhouette of a person unexpectedly appeared from the shadows and she let out a startled gasp. "Malfoy!"_

_Across from her, the figure of a young man had come to a sudden halt and now the Slytherin was mumbling something under his breath as he bent down to pick up the towel he had dropped on the floor. With widened eyes she followed his movements, her gaze lingering on his messy, moist hair in confusion as she noticed the absence of his charcoal jumper and Slytherin tie, the collar buttons of his white oxford left undone._

_Then it occurred to her that the Prefect's bathroom wasn't far from where they ran in to each other._

_The young man stole a quick glance at Hermione before he straightened up, his brows furrowing when he noticed her stare. _

"_Are you on patrol, Granger?" He asked sharply, the tone of his voice evasive. He obviously felt caught by the Gryffindor. _

_Hermione blinked and immediately averted her gaze from him. "No, I am not. I was just... taking a walk. Enjoying the silence..."_

_She didn't know why she included the last words, but to her surprise Malfoy nodded curtly as his grey eyes darkened. Perhaps, the same thought had brought him out here tonight, too._

_She cast another, hesitant look at the unusual state of his blond hair. It made a relaxed impression which, strangely enough, suited him. Hermione blinked and hastily discarded that stray thought when something else occurred to her. "Do you still use the Prefect's bathroom?"_

_Malfoy raised an eyebrow in mock irony. Hadn't that been obvious? _

"_As a matter of fact, I do," he said slowly. "Since technically I still am a Prefect…" After a moment's hesitation, he added on a more subdued tone, "I'm not allowed to give and take points to and from the other students and impose punishments, though."_

_Almost directly after he had finished speaking, a shadow passed over Malfoy's face when he saw that Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at his words. He bit his lip in regret and deciding he'd already said too much, he nodded curtly at her before turning to resume his way. Then something seemed to stop him and he looked over his shoulder. Hesitantly, he cast a glance at Hermione._

"_So… A Patronus, huh?" His gruff voice held a hint of admiration and something else she couldn't make out. _

_Hermione blinked at his unexpected question, but then her features relaxed as a smile ghosted over her lips. Apparently, her Christmas greeting had meant more to him than he would want to admit. "Yes… if done correctly, they can deliver messages from the caster." _

_Her eyes rose to meet his. "A Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard conjuring it and isn't hindered by physical obstacles. It's the perfect form of trustworthy communication."_

_Malfoy had been listening to her words quietly. "It's an otter," he then stated and Hermione nodded. "My favourite animal." _

_The silence following her quiet explanation was only interrupted by the sound of a drop of water falling into a puddle in the back of the abandoned corridor as Malfoy looked at her thoughtfully. Then he mumbled, seemingly to himself, "I wonder..." _

_But the moment the words had left his lips he shook his head dismissively. "Never mind."_

_He started to walk down the stairs and as he passed Hermione she smelled the familiar scent of soap from the Prefect's bathroom on him. The silver moonlight coming from the window lit up his blond hair as he bowed his head to watch his steps. _

_Hermione turned to watch him go, as a strange pang of regret shot through her stomach. Somehow, she didn't want him to leave yet._

"_I wonder what your Patronus would look like." Quiet words suddenly echoed through the high corridor and the Slytherin froze. _

"_Leave it, Granger," he snarled, but he didn't sound convinced and he remained rooted to the spot as he subconsciously clenched his towel. Somehow, he was suddenly to walk away. And Hermione knew she had touched the right chord. _

_This Malfoy was different from the one she'd known for the past seven years. Over a few coincidental collaborations at Potion's class, she'd come to know him as a withdrawn young man who seemed to have renounced his old ways, sobered from the believes he'd grown up with. Now she knew for sure that he had, as she looked down on his motionless figure, his white oxford in sharp contrast to the dusky corridor. He didn't ask for, but still sought another chance, she realised, as he had yet to leave the corridor but was held back by something inexplicable. A chance, she felt, he deserved. _

_She was pulled from her thoughts when his drawling voice suddenly filled the deathly quiet corridor._

"_What do you think?" It was the first civil question he'd ever asked her and his face was tense when he looked up at her. Despite himself he cared for her answer._

_Biting back a smile at his hesitant approach, she thought his question over for a moment, then she said determinedly, "A dragon."_

_That sounded clearly much too ostentatious to him and his mouth curled up in a sneer. _

"_A dragon," he repeated sarcastically. Who did she think he was? Some hero like Potter? "And why is that?" _

_Hermione shrugged. "Because of your name, I guess," she responded simply and he fell quiet. Of course. His name._

"_Does it have to be that way?" Malfoy looked at her with a searching gaze, though he seemed hesitant about continuing the conversation. But Hermione already shook her head. "No. The animal form mostly depends on your own preferences or characteristics. They can even shift shape with dramatic changes in the owner's life." _

_A shadow passed over her face as her thoughts involuntarily had drifted to Tonks and Lupin and she bowed her head in sorrow at their memory. It was then that his voice, reluctantly, pulled her from her thoughts. _

"_Can you teach me?"_

* * *

Though she had been here before, Hermione couldn't help but admire the elegancy of Malfoy Manor, her feet sinking away in expensive, Persian rugs which partially covered the gleaming parquet, as she followed Malfoy through the stately corridors. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings decorated with elaborate stucco work guided them on their way, casting a sparkling light on the delicate silk wallpaper. _S_he noticed that, just like in the other estates, paintings were missing on the walls here and there. But in contrary to those houses, she suspected that in this case it had something to do with closing chapters.

As the Ministry officials quietly followed Malfoy's tall figure leading them to the attic, they ascended several staircases, and with each new floor, the surroundings lost in grandeur what it gained in simplicity until finally, Malfoy opened a plain wooden door, revealing to them a spiral staircase up to what Hermione assumed to be one of the Manor's characteristic six towers.

Without ceremony, Malfoy went ahead and the three inspectors followed him on the narrow, rough-wooden stairs.

Just when Hermione felt herself becoming dizzy, she heard Malfoy's muffled voice announcing, "We're here."

He stepped aside for the inspectors to enter the attic and surprised, Hermione let the view being unfolded before her eyes, sink in for a moment. Beams of sunlight streamed inside through a few small dormers, casting shadows over the countless wooden pillars dividing the surprisingly large space like a honeycomb.

Looking up, she saw that a few skylights being placed at strategic places enabled a beautiful view on the intricate structure of roof-beams inside the high, pointed roof. Then her gaze came to rest upon a white plastered wall in the corner of the attic, with two small doors in it.

She nodded at her inspectors and with a slightly stiff wave of his arm, Malfoy invited the inspectors to check upon them.

As the young Ministry officials started to cross the attic, Hermione took a small peek at the blond man next to her, trying to read his watchful features as his eyes warily followed the inspectors. She had been caught off guard by the sharp look he'd cast her downstairs, startled by the perceptiveness she'd read in his steely grey eyes. Her heart had been in her throat as they had silently wandered through the endless corridors, seemingly without purpose, as the memory of Harry's worried words repeated itself over and over again. 'Do you know what you're asking of them, of him? Are you prepared to bear responsibility for that, too?'

But, she had seen no reproach in Malfoy's gaze, only anxiety and… pain, as he had momentarily lowered the mask of impassiveness in a silent appeal to her, until she'd averted her eyes from him. He hadn't looked at her since and now she found herself standing here with him, their eyes trained on the inspectors in a clear attempt to avoid each other's gazes.

"So, how have you been?" Hermione asked quietly, trying to ignore the dejected feeling creeping up on her. She kept her voice down for the inspectors as they opened the small doors in the far end of the attic, leading to what she assumed to be the house-elves' bedrooms.

Malfoy didn't answer right away and Hermione felt that he was struggling to find the proper words. Then after a moment of silence he replied, "It's been… manageable."

There was a certain weariness in his quiet words, but when Hermione looked up at his sharp profile, his expression betrayed nothing.

She felt a surge of sympathy go through her as she tried to picture his life: stuck between the world that didn't know how to treat these Death Eaters involuntarily turned good and preferred to ignore them and an embittered family that had yet to accept their role in the end of the Second Wizarding War.

"I see that you've realised your dream," Malfoy changed the subject, feeling Hermione's scrutinizing gaze on him. "How does Weasley feel about it?"

He didn't entirely succeed in keeping the disdain he'd always harboured for Ron from his voice. And perhaps there was something else, she couldn't pinpoint.

Hermione's gaze darkened at his words. So, he hadn't been completely unobservant while bullying them during their Hogwarts days, she thought wryly. He had noticed that Ron hadn't been all that enthusiastic about the SPEW and it stung.

"He feels that I should have taken Aurors with me, when I decided to accompany the inspectors on their first week," she replied rather sharply and he immediately fell silent, being put in his place. The place of the untrustworthy Death Eater.

A barely noticeable expression of disappointment passed over his face, swiftly replaced by the familiar impassiveness, as he lowered his gaze. His light blond hair was being lit up by a ray of sunlight at the small but meaningful movement.

At seeing him withdrawing into himself, Hermione closed her eyes and inwardly cursed herself, wishing that she could take back her words. After all, it wasn't Malfoy's fault that she and Ron always seemed to be disagreeing with one another these days and she suddenly felt nothing better than their classmates during their repeated final year at Hogwarts.

Her eyes were fixed on the small dust particles dancing in the beam of sunlight before her, when she spoke up quietly, a tone of remorse lacing her voice. "He doesn't understand…" She hesitated, then confessed on a softer tone, "But Harry does. He's worried about me."

She heaved a small sigh as she finally touched upon her reason for coming back and for the first time since they had arrived in the attic, Malfoy's grey eyes slowly turned to meet hers. The cold, disappointed look from before was gone, replaced by a subdued melancholy, that had her heart skip a beat.

"I can't say I disagree with Potter on that," he said quietly.

* * *

_Dinner was a feast at Hogwarts during the holidays. The Great Hall shimmered with the lights of the many ornately decorated Christmas trees as snow softly fell from the enchanted ceiling, never to reach the single House Table where Malfoy sat down across from Hermione. _

_Their gazes crossed fleetingly as they reached for the grilled chicken, their acknowledgement barely visible for the other students sitting to dinner. _

_And nobody but Professor McGonagall noticed that when Hermione eventually stood after having finished her desert, Draco Malfoy rose as well and followed the Gryffindor at a short distance. With a thoughtful look she watched them leave the Great Hall one after the other, but regretfully had to avert her gaze from the mysterious eighth-year students, when she got distracted by Professor Slughorn who started a doting elaboration on the combined values of his two most talented students. _

-x-x-x-

_Much to Malfoy's displeasure, they found themselves in the dusky Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, after a long, silent walk through the abandoned corridors. His cool, grey eyes hardened slightly as Hermione walked down the aisle and sat down on one of the school desks on the front row. She was dressed in a colourful, knitted jumper with a large H on the front surrounded by books and snug Muggle jeans. _

_Slowly and with apparent unease, Malfoy followed the Gryffindor. He hadn't been in this classroom since he'd dropped the subject in his sixth year. It brought back memories of a past lifetime, he loathed to be reminded of._

"_Patrolling isn't really necessary during holidays, you know," he drawled as he crossed his arms before his chest as he leaned against one of the desks on the second row. They had just spent a good part of the last hour crossing empty corridors to reach the classroom that lay farthest away from the Great Hall. But, Hermione shook her head, ignoring his sneer. _

"_This classroom is the most suitable place for practice," she replied dismissively as she cast him a probing gaze. She noticed that he shifted his weight uncomfortably, a restless expression in his eyes. "You don't like it here, don't you?"_

_His gaze darkened. Why did she have to be so observant? "No," he admitted curtly._

"_Good." She clearly surprised him with her unexpected reply, as he involuntary raised one eyebrow. "That will make things even more realistic. Now, what do you know about the subject?"_

_Her direct approach made him forget about his previous discomfort as he told her about what he had learned from doing a little research on the subject in the library. She nodded approvingly, glad that he had taken some time to prepare himself. He was really serious about this._

"_Very good. Then you also know that finding your happy memory will be the most difficult part," she informed him, as she slid from the desk and went to stand before him, "since it has to be a very strong one, one that touches you to the very core of your being. Memories of winning the Quidditch Cup won't be enough," she added warningly and his face fell._

_But, Hermione ignored Malfoy's dismay as she drew her wand. _

"_I will show you the spell once, then you have to do it yourself," she said with emphasis, sounding eerily like Professor McGonagall. _

_Within one swift movement, she turned around, slid into a stance and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" _

_Immediately, a sparkling otter jumped into the silent classroom, driving away the darkness with its shimmering, silver light. For a moment, it floated before them, then, like a flowing ribbon, it curled itself lovingly around Hermione and disappeared into the nothing. _

_As the classroom darkened once more upon the Patronus' disappearance, Hermione turned around. There was no smugness in her expression when she looked at Malfoy expectantly. _

_The Slytherin, however, had his eyes still trained on the place where the Patronus had been before it dissipated. He seemed heavily impressed, both with her speed and her skill._

_A small smile ghosted over Hermione's lips and she slid out of her stance, approaching him. "All right," she said. "First, we need you to find a happy memory." _

_She positioned herself in front of him, a warm, encouraging gaze in her caramel eyes as she folded her arms before her chest, her wand resting against her upper arm. _

"_Now, close your eyes," she told him and it was when she waited for him to do so that she suddenly saw his gaze flash nervously to her wand at her words. He seemed to tense up as he struggled to not take a step back. _

_Surprised by his unexpected reaction, Hermione frowned, then noticed, as her gaze trailed down, that he subconsciously clenched his wand. _

_He was afraid of her, Hermione then suddenly realised in shock as she looked up at the broad-shouldered young man towering over her smaller form. _

_Despite himself, it was clear that the close proximity of an armed member of the Golden Trio probably still unnerved him and she was standing closer to him than they had ever been before, even during Potion's class. Hermione narrowed her eyes in dismay. The very idea that someone, even if it was Malfoy, could be scared of her, revolted her and she angrily shook her head._

"_Close your eyes," she ordered once more, harsher than she'd intended._

_For a moment, Malfoy seemed confused by her apparent irritation, But, after one suspicious look he obeyed, his senses piquing. His eyelids trembled as the knuckles of his hand clenching his wand turned white. He kept his eyes closed though, like Hermione had asked him to and her gaze softened. _

_She was demanding a great deal of trust from a young man, she realised, who never had any reason to trust anyone beside his parents, especially not Harry Potter and his friends._

"_Relax." Her voice was softer now, friendlier as she put a hand to his forearm reassuringly. The moment he felt her touch, he stiffened, but after a while he allowed his tight muscles to slacken, as she still had done nothing to hurt him. Involuntarily, he let out a soft sigh. _

_Hermione's gaze trailed down to her own hand as it rested on his forearm and she felt a pleasant warmth reach her palm through his robe. It dawned to her that this was the first time she'd touched Malfoy willingly, without hitting him. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine and hastily she withdrew before looking up at him. His eyes were still closed, giving him an oddly serene expression._

"_Good," she praised him, a hint of gentleness to her tone of voice, which made his last mistrust ebb away. "Now, find a happy memory. A good one."_

_She waited patiently, giving him the time he needed, while he lowered his guard and allowed himself to search through his most valuable memories, childhood memories with his parents, memories too precious to share with any of his harsh, ruthless friends. Eventually, he nodded and she stepped back. _

_"All right, now hold on to that memory, open your eyes and raise your wand. Then say the words. Loudly."_

_At his first try, a hesitant trail of light shot from his wand and lingered in the air for a moment, before it disappeared into the darkness. _

_Malfoy slid out of his stance and frowned disappointedly but was swept off his feet when he noticed Hermione's expression. She was practically beaming at him. Her caramel eyes were shining with unexpected warmth and a smile lit up her face._

"_That was very good!" She remarked approvingly. "Especially for the first time."_

_He slightly widened his eyes and awkwardly averted his gaze to his wand. That the small puff of light could cause this kind of enthusiasm was beyond his comprehension._

_Nevertheless, she smiled encouragingly. "I think you've chosen a good memory." She nodded. "Now try again!"_

_Obviously grateful that she didn't pry about his memory, Malfoy slid into a stance once more and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"_

_Again, only a slight silver line left the wand, but Hermione had expected as much. A lot of the members of the DA had done much longer over creating even the slightest puff of light. But, Malfoy was indeed a very talented wizard. She studied him as he slid out of his stance. His will to excel was still there but it was tempered by a new patience that provided him with a calm focus on the task ahead._

_A slight smile formed on Hermione's lips as she let him continue his practice, until the silver light only emerged as vapour. And when Hermione and Malfoy finally left the abandoned classroom, she noticed that a hint of a glow softened his features. _

_For the first time in a long period of time he had accomplished something of his own._

* * *

The inspectors had opened the doors to the house-elves' bedrooms and discovered two simple but neat rooms, each containing two small beds made with spotless cotton sheets and warm woolen blankets. Sunlight came in from the dormers in between the beds, round attic windows which could be opened for fresh air.

Malfoy's eyes closely watched their eager movements as the inspectors unrolled twenty-four inches of the inspection form and filled in their findings, then came to rest on Hermione. She was looking around silently, disbelief dripping from her features.

This caused Malfoy's expression to darken with an expression of concern, until she turned around, an approving smile on her lips. "This is very good, Malfoy. It looks like you've actually read those regulations."

He frowned in embarrassment at her praise. "Well, it took me enough to persuade those elves into leaving the kitchen-sink," he muttered under his breath.

This caused Hermione's smile to secretly turn into a smirk, as she looked around once more.

"I think these rooms are at least at par with those at Hogwarts," she commented appreciatively, running her hand over a blanket. At his questioning gaze she explained, "Our first inspection led us to Hogwarts."

The inspectors then turned around and declared they'd seen enough. One of them continued to announce that they needed to speak to the house-elves to conclude the inspection. That conversation would have to take place in the absence of Mr. Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded coolly at his words. "If you'll return to the kitchen, the house-elves will still be there," he informed the inspectors. "I'll tell my parents not to enter as long as you are with them."

The inspectors searched Hermione's gaze, but she shook her head. "Go ahead. I trust you'll do just fine." She smiled weakly, as they nodded in acknowledgment and started to walk back to the spiral staircase.

Silently, she and Malfoy watched the two disappear between the rough-wooden pillars.

"You do?" Malfoy finally asked sarcastically when the inspectors were out of ear shot, but Hermione only looked to the ground, avoiding his sharp gaze.

"As a matter of fact, I do," she countered his doubtful words. "The last couple of times they had this conversation with house-elves, all went well."

He silently stared at her for a moment, a thoughtful expression in his eyes, then he turned to leave as well. He had his parents to inform.

The abandoned space grew darker to indicate the fast approach of the evening as Hermione quietly followed him.

"So, since you asked about Ron before…" she pushed the conversation into a safer direction, "how's Pansy doing?"

He paused in his steps for a moment. "I wasn't asking about him, Granger…" he replied with apparent irritation, "but to answer your question: I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her in a while."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in honest surprise at his words. Pansy Parkinson had been his girlfriend for most of their years at Hogwarts. And though Hermione had never understood what the reasonably handsome and popular Draco Malfoy had seen in the pug-faced girl, she had been convinced that the two would eventually get married. Just like Ron and her… She frowned, when she thought about that. Apparently, life didn't always agree with one's expectations.

"What happened?"

Malfoy cast a sideways glance at Hermione and seemed to gauge her intentions as his gaze darkened slightly. He hesitated.

"Our views on… life didn't necessarily correspond with one another anymore," he then replied formally but honestly.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully at his words. She thought she understood. Pansy had never, not once showed any sign of having changed after the defeat of Voldemort, while the course of events during the war had sobered Malfoy to the extent that they were now standing here, in the dusky environment of this attic, having a normal conversation. It was something that pleased her more than she wanted to admit to herself.

Malfoy then slightly turned his head and added casually, "I'm seeing Astoria Greengrass now."

The remark unexpectedly hit Hermione hard. As his words sunk in, she struggled to keep her face composed, but when she repeated the name, her voice only betrayed proper confusion.

"Daphne's younger sister," he helped her remember as Hermione nodded vaguely, avoiding his somewhat expectant gaze fixing on her. "Oh, right."

Of course Draco Malfoy wouldn't have stayed alone for too long a time, she forced herself to observe sober-mindedly. And what Hermione remembered of Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin girl from their year, she imagined that her sister would be perfect for him: a fairly intelligent and nice-looking girl from an old, pureblood family that had refrained from siding with the Dark Lord overmuch.

Subconsciously, Hermione let out a melancholic sigh as she lowered her gaze.

Silence descended on them, as the setting sun shed its blood red light over the two people standing across from each other in the otherwise abandoned space. They had completely forgotten about their intention to leave the attic.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when Malfoy inconspicuously reached out and carefully took a slip of the Ministry scarf between his fingers. With an unreadable look in his eyes he scrutinized the bronze, heavily embroidered emblem.

"Why have you come back, Granger?" He then asked quietly, his cool voice sounding subdued in the quiet atmosphere. Oddly enough he repeated the first civil question she had asked him more than six years ago, as his eyes rested on her searchingly. There was a hint of melancholy to his voice at his direct question and Hermione felt that he was still seeking for her to abandon her resolution. He was worried.

Hermione looked away as she tried to ignore her heart skipping a beat at his intimate gesture. "You know why," she responded softly.

His eyes rose up from the scarf, coming to rest on her bowed head. The last rays of the sun cast a copper glow on her gleaming curls and for a moment a pained expression passed over his features.

"Potter is right, you know?" He then whispered with an almost teasing edge to his otherwise intense voice.

Hermione swallowed as she kept her gaze averted. "I heard you say it."

"Then why won't you listen to us?"

For a fleeting moment it occurred to her that never before she had heard Draco Malfoy refer to himself and Harry Potter as 'us.' The world really had changed.

"Because…" she stammered, her voice breaking, "because I need this. I need to see that room again. I… I need to see it at daytime. So I can finally put my nightmares to rest…"

Draco paled visibly and as if stung, immediately let go of the scarf. He took a step back, watching her as she fought back tears threatening to spill. A look of absolute and deeply felt guilt passed over his face.

"Listen…," Hermione's voice trembled when she spoke up again, "I won't force you to show me the drawing room. After all, it's your house and this must be hard for you, too. All I can do is ask."

He set his jaw at her words and closed his eyes before he answered. "You're right. This is hard for me, too," he said hoarsely. "I have to live with the fact that I was there when she… used the curse on you," he clenched his fists, "and did nothing."

Her head shot up and their eyes met in equally pained gazes, both of them overwhelmed by memories that shouldn't be remembered anymore. But, when Hermione opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off, turning around briskly.

"I trust the inspectors will be busy interrogating my house-elves for a while," he then said coldly, almost roughly as he desperately tried to control his emotions. "In the mean time, I will show you the drawing room."

* * *

_The following day Hermione spent before the cackling fire in the Gryffindor Tower, snuggled up on one of the worn, velvet couches, her feet tugged underneath her as she read a book worth her own body weight. Enjoying the quiet moment in the normally so boisterous Common Room, she started out of her bliss only once, when Dennis Creevey, who apparently had picked up photography as a hobby after his brother's death, took a picture of the girl whom his brother had adored the most. Hermione blinked blindly against the illustrated pages of the old book as the still small boy took off happily. And secretly, she was glad that she wouldn't be meeting with Malfoy until after bed time curfew for Dennis Creevey. _

-x-x-x-

_That night, Hermione installed herself on the same school desk as the night before, when the sound of slightly hastened footsteps approaching the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, broke the somewhat ominous silence. She looked up to see Malfoy enter the classroom, his silhouette in school robes casting a dark shadow against the wall cabinets filled with grimy artefacts. He drew his wand as he walked down the aisle with long strides, but let it point to the ground as he approached his former enemy. _

_The look on his face betrayed that he was upset about something._

"_The first-year needed some attendance," Malfoy curtly explained his late arrival. Hermione had already noticed that he had neither been present at dinner tonight. A confused expression appeared on her face at his words, but then she suddenly remembered the small Slytherin boy that had been the only one of his year to stay behind at Hogwarts over Christmas. _

_Her gaze darkened. The Slytherin first-year came from a family of fanatical Death Eaters who had all died in the war or ended up in Azkaban. She couldn't fathom how much hatred had already been instilled in him, damaging his views on the world. _

_Silently, Hermione studied Malfoy. His face was drawn and weariness spoke from his eyes. Something about the boy's situation seemed to have touched him personally._

"_Did he miss them?" She asked, but Malfoy stared at her blankly. "Who?"_

"_His family."_

_The Slytherin averted his gaze as a closed-off expression passed over his face. He wasn't one to divulge himself to others, especially not to Gryffindors. _

_With a tired gesture, he ran a hand through his hair. "Among other things," he endorsed. _

"_How is he now?" Hermione asked softly and Malfoy sighed involuntarily. "He's asleep. I… was the only Prefect, or older student for that matter, present. I just hope…" Dismissively, he shook his head to contain himself._

"_I'm sure you did all right, Malfoy." He flinched slightly when he suddenly heard Hermione's reassuring voice speaking up close by him. She had slid off the school desk soundlessly and had positioned herself next to him, answering what had been left unsaid._

_For a moment, he silently gazed down on her, mixed feelings storming in the normally unreadable mirrors that were his eyes. Hermione involuntarily held her breath as she waited. Then his expression became impassive again. _

"_It's late," he said with only a little edge to his voice, "we better get started."_

_By the end of the lesson Malfoy had succeeded in solidifying the string of light._

* * *

**A/N: **_I would like to thank all of you who have faved, alerted and reviewed the previous chapters. I sincerely hope that you all like this chapter as much as the other ones. _

_A lot has happened in this chapter. Draco has given in to Hermione's request to see the drawing room again where she'd been tortured by his aunt Bellatrix as the flashbacks show that over the holidays at Hogwarts Hermione teaches a determined Draco how to conjure a Patronus. Will he succeed in conjuring a full bodied Patronus in time, as he only has one week to master the spell? And what will Hermione's reaction be when she's confronted with her nightmares?_

_Thank you very much for reading!_


	4. Regulation 3: Psychological  Burden

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 1: First Inspection**

**Chapter 4: Regulation 3: Physical and Psychological Burdens**

Music: Bear McCreary, Roslin and Adama Reunited (Battlestar Galactica 2003 S4)

* * *

When they reached the all too familiar door, Malfoy put his hand to the handle, then hesitated. He bit his lip and turned around.

"You can still change your mind, Granger," he insisted as he stared at her intently. A strange mixture of hope and warning was implicit in his gaze.

But, Hermione hadn't expected his hesitance. She bumped into him, when he suddenly barred her way. In a reflex she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

When her small hand closed around Malfoy's elbow, he stiffened and something flickered in his eyes upon the sudden contact.

Hermione gasped in dismay and immediately stepped back, averting her gaze in embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Malfoy, however, brushed it off with a vague shake of his head and took another look at her. "I take it that I can't persuade you?"

This time Hermione nodded silently and as he pushed down the door handle, he heaved a defeated sigh.

* * *

_The following night__, a young man and a young woman, both a bit too old to be attending Hogwarts as students, silently walked through the empty corridors of the Hogwarts castle. Their dark figures in winter cloaks stood out against the greyish dusk in the Gothic hallways. Only the soft, fizzling sound of torches being kindled at their approach, accompanied their determined but unhurried footsteps. _

_There was a surprising naturalness in the way they walked side by side, the expression on their features serious but calm as they proceeded in the quiet walkways - a Gryffindor and a Slytherin heading for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at untimely hours._

_When the__y had finally reached the deserted classroom, Malfoy immediately walked down the aisle and simply took a stance. _

_Hermione followed somewhat slower and quietly sat down on her desk. She pulled her winter cloak closer around herself. Despite her warm, Muggle turtleneck, it was unpleasantly chilly in the unheated classroom._

_Malfoy didn't seem to notice__ the cold, though, as he heaved his wand, a familiar concentration taking possession of his features and Hermione leaned her chin on her folded hands to watch him. His determination fascinated her, made her carefully study his intent movements and the way he closed his eyes before every new try, when a ray of light would flash over her features. She was anxious to know what progress he would be making tonight._

_T__he first two times he said the incantation, the familiar ribbon of light appeared, but the third time he suddenly managed to enlarge the puff of light into a perfect, glowing orb. He froze in shock, widening his eyes as Hermione looked up in surprise. For a moment, they only stared at the shimmering ball that shedded a magical light over their astonished features._

_A__ drop of sweat rolled down his temple as Malfoy managed to keep it going for a minute. Then it fizzled out like a damp squib. But, Malfoy didn't acknowledge defeat. The blond Slytherin pursed his lips into a thin line and immediately raised his wand again. _

_Determinedly, he spoke the incantation. Another glowing orb shot from his wand, even brighter than the first one._

_Hermione__ watched his efforts in secret admiration. In less than two nights he had not only managed to produce an actual start to a full bodied Patronus but made an impressive progress with each and every try as well. She studied him as he struggled to maintain the glowing orb. Deep concentration and unbelievable strength of will were being displayed on his features. There was a resolve in his focused gaze that went beyond the observant look she saw with him during classes. He'd been offered a chance and he had seized it with both his hands._

_Finally, Malfoy lost his battle and the glowing orb slowly disappeared as he cast a glance at the young woman sitting motionless on the desk next to him. Her __appreciation for his efforts must have been showing, because an expression of mild confusion passed over his face before he hastily turned away and fixed his eyes on the disappearing orb. _

_It was the last time he would succeed in creating one that evening._

* * *

Purple. That was the colour that marked her nightmares. The colour that haunted her whenever she was off guard. The colour she had avoided to wear ever since that day.

The colour of the drawing room she was about to enter again, after six long years.

Hermione felt a little dizzy, as if she'd lost contact with her body, when Malfoy opened the door to the drawing room and turned around one last time. From what seemed like a enormous distance, she heard him say in an almost apologizing tone that his mother had redecorated the room, after…

Hermione felt as if she were floating when she stepped inside, following Malfoy who carefully closed the door behind them. The blood pounded in her ears as her breathing came in ragged in- and exhales.

She was back. After six years of having nightmares at least three nights a week about the tortures having taken place in this drawing room in Malfoy Manor, she was back. Back to the source of her ever continuing agony, hoping to finally put that part of her life to rest.

But, she didn't recognize it.

She turned around slowly as her body started to tremble from the tension being released, but the colour that encased her was a gentle, light blue. The enormous, black marble fireplace that was anchored in her memories was replaced by a much more delicate, white one. Insecurely, her eyes wandered over the unfamiliar surroundings, until finally, she looked up at the high ceiling, remembering the large chandelier that used to hang from there. It was gone.

Of course, Hermione had known that Dobby had destroyed the room when freeing the people being held prison in the secret room below, but somehow she had expected the Malfoy family to be conservative enough to have restored the room to its former state.

Now, she looked around in confusion, ever turning as she searched for a moment of recognition. Instead, the silhouettes of the foreign furniture seemed to lose form and her heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest as tears silently started to run down her cheeks without her noticing it. A strange kind of claustrophobic panic surged through her, making it difficult for her to breathe and Hermione turned toward the large window, behind which the early evening sky glowed in clear, orange colours.

Then she noticed it. The silhouette of a blond young man she vaguely recognized though he wasn't clad in black, who had quietly taken position next to the long, silk curtains. He looked at her with a somber look on his face.

Him. Malfoy. Draco.

The image struck her with the power of a lightning bolt. Hermione stumbled back as a forgotten memory of him standing there shattered the breaches of her conscience with unexpected force.

Then the floodgates of her mind were opened.

A wave of horrifying memories washed over her, memories that had been locked away for six, long years, only to come out while she was sleeping. Now, they were played before her wakeful eye, leaving her defenseless. Hermione's eyes widened in utter, deep felt horror when an excruciating pain unexpectedly surged through her body and the echo of a maniacal, cackling laugh rang in her ears. The world began to whirl around her. The shock was too big, too deep. Rapidly, consciousness started to slip through her fingers.

"No," Hermione whispered in the knowledge that she fought a lost battle. She felt her eyeballs roll backwards.

The last thing she saw in a quickly darkening world, was the figure by the window rushing toward her as he called, "Hermione!"

* * *

_On t__he day of New Year's Eve the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts had been filled with all kinds of fireworks. Brilliant colours flashed up every now and then in the cloudy sky, but two of the older students weren't there to witness the festive spectacle, as Hermione had wanted to start early with practice, even before bedtime curfew. _

_The last couple of nights__, Malfoy had been working hard and he had succeeded in both maintaining and enlarging the glowing orb. A corporeal Patronus remained beyond his reach, though._

"_This is very advanced magic, Malfoy and we have had very little time to practice," Hermione remarked when he let out a grumble of frustration and wiped the sweat from his forehead. __The bright orb, which he so desperately had tried to solidify, disappeared in the darkness surrounding them. _

_"You're already a much faster learner than most of the others."_

_It was hardly an encouragement, rather than a simple statement of the facts. _

_Malfoy grimaced and cast her a disbelieving look, before he slid into stance __with renewed vigour. He produced another set of glowing orbs, each one smaller than the last one, until he wearily lowered his wand._

_As he leaned__ against the dusty blackboard, he looked at Hermione with an empty gaze in his eyes. There was no use continuing, Malfoy finally seemed to realise. He was too tired. But he seemed to want to try one last time, because he straightened up, heaved his wand and summoned his memory. "Expecto Patronum!"_

_The light leaving his wand immediately turned into the well known orb that shone brightly in the dusky classroom. For a moment, Malfoy stared at it intently, hoping to see any solid form in it, until he lowered his wand with a jerk of his hand and put his hands before his eyes. From her place on the desk, Hermione could see that he set his jaw as despair took him into an iron hold. A pained groan escaped him._

"_I can't do it. I'll never bring it__ off," he then growled. "It just won't work. What was I thinking?"_

_His __loud voice, rough from anguish, echoed through the silent classroom as he made a choking sound and slumped down to the ground. _

"_What-was-I-thinking?__" He repeated brokenly and through clenched teeth as he curled his hands into fists and bowed his head._

_Silently, Hermione looked on as Malfoy's wand clashed __onto the ground, having fallen from his grasp. _

_A paragon of defeat. _

_Even in the old days__, before the war had ended, Hermione had never seen him lose control like this. Harry had once told her about the time he walked in on Malfoy crying in despair. It wasn't until now she could imagine what the blond Slytherin would have looked like. It broke her heart. _

_He had been so determined__, so motivated to learn, as if he had been trying to prove something to himself, to the Malfoy she'd come to know in the past few months. She had seen the self-loathing in his eyes every time he failed to enlarge the ball of light, to create a full bodied Patronus. And now, as New Year's Eve had finally arrived, he seemed to have lost all hope of ever mastering the skill._

_Hermione shifted on her school desk, eying him thoughtfully. She was well aware that they didn't have much time left for them to practice, for him to achieve his goal. A sigh escaped her. _

"_Perhaps you should reconsider your happy memory," she said quietly, breaking the heavy silence. _

_Malfoy's head jerked up. "__That's impossible!" He hissed, his face contorted with anger. _

_His anger was lost on Hermione, though, as she only continued to study him with a gaze that demanded an explanation. "Why? Perhaps if you'll allow yourself to reconsider, there's another memory that might..." _

_But, her insisting only added to his frustration and he fiercely shook his head. "No!" His normally cold gaze blazed with fury and his anger even made sparkles shoot from his wand. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"_

_He__rmione silently let her eyes rest on him for a moment, the expression in her eyes both sad and understanding before she finally said, "I guess not." _

_She bowed her head. Her cautious reply lingered in the air and Malfoy stared at her, his eyes still darkened with rage and frustration. But, the sight of her,__ ethereal in the cold moonlight coming through the grimy window, stilled him and his tense shoulders slowly relaxed. Unnoticed by Hermione, a remorseful expression appeared about his mouth._

_For a moment__, neither of them said something, then Malfoy's voice, a bit hoarse from his previous outburst, but much calmer now, broke the silence in a soft confession. "I have no other memory that works as good as this one."_

_This part of the charm never ceased to make him uncomfortably vulnerable__ and there was a sour tone to his voice when he spoke. He averted his gaze to the floor and Hermione nodded somewhat dejectedly - she had expected as much. _

"_Perhaps__, we'll find a way to practice after school has started again…," she tried, but her voice sounded hesitant, doubtful. The day after tomorrow, the school would flock with students again and there would be no way to meet with Malfoy without anyone noticing it. They both didn't feel like that to happen. _

_He had tried, she had tried, but in the end she had to acknowledge that her attempt at teaching the Slytherin the Patronus spell within four days, had failed. Malfoy seemed to acknowledge that as well._

_Sadness wrenched her heart as he stood__ up with surprisingly dignified movements and turned himself away from her. He fixed his eyes on the window, closing off from her, from the world. He wanted to be alone with his grave disappointment with himself._

_Hermione__ bit her lip and withstood the urge to go to him, knowing that the best thing to do now, was also the hardest thing. _

_Quietly, she slid down the school desk__ and walked toward the back of the classroom. When she reached the door, she cast a last look at the blond Slytherin and saw Malfoy's silhouette standing out against the cold moonlight. An unapproachable, marble statue of a disappointed young man, gazing inwardly, who saw yet another failure added to the collection. _

_Regretfully, the door closed behind her._

* * *

"… wake up! … you hear…? Wake up, Hermione!"

…

There was an anguished voice, urgently calling out to her. Then it was gone.

…

"Hermione… Wake up!"

She groaned softly, reluctant to obey that demanding voice and return from the blissful, dark nothing. Why was he calling her Hermione? The person she knew who belonged to that voice, would never call her by her first name, but…

"Granger!"

Yes, that was it. Granger.

Her eyes fluttered open and stared into a pair of stormy silver ones that raged with worry, fury, relief and something she couldn't quite pin down, all at once. Captivated, she kept her gaze focused on those eyes as she started to become aware of her surroundings again. Then she noticed that the person belonging to those eyes held her in his arms and kept her half upright as her head leaned against his upper arm.

"Please, Hermione. If you can hear me, say something. Are you awake?"

There it was again. Hermione. He really must be worried. Otherwise, he wouldn't have let her come so close to him. She could almost touch his face.

Hermione opened her mouth with difficulty.

"You're not wearing black," she whispered the first thing that came to mind.

She saw relief flash through his gaze over her answer, but when her observation sunk in, his eyes widened slightly. Bewilderment replaced the other emotions for a moment, until a small smirk lit up his worried features.

"Does that bother you?" He asked, as he raised his eyebrow in query, his drawling voice softened by a barely noticeable chuckle.

Hermione's eyes grazed his face, before closing them, suddenly feeling very weary. She shook her head. "No, you look less scary this way."

She vaguely registered that his grip on her tightened at her tired, but honest words and he gently brought her head to rest on his shoulder. His muffled voice sounded somewhat strange when he responded softly, "I'm glad."

Then she drifted away into safer areas of unconsciousness.

* * *

_To celebrate the transition of the old year into the new one, t__he teachers had prepared some brilliant fireworks for the students to watch on the Fourth Floor Balcony, taking place after a large, festive dinner. _

_A dinner to__ which Malfoy didn't show up. _

_Hermione had silently finished her meal that evening. She didn't quite notice what she was eating and she wasn't able to get herself to join the excited chatter around her as the events of this afternoon still absorbed her thoughts. For a moment, she had studied the little Slytherin boy sitting next to the two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff. Whatever it had been that had the boy so upset a couple of days ago, Malfoy must have done a good job of reassuring him. He seemed satisfied and happy as he chatted with the other students. It was the only moment during dinner when Hermione's features relaxed somewhat._

_Now__, Hermione quietly lugged behind the procession of teachers and students heading for the balcony. Within half an hour, the fireworks would usher in the start of the first calendar year after the ending of the war. _

_When the group entered the cold night and spread out over the terrace, Hermione chose a place near the railing. Snowflakes were falling down on her and clung to her curls and eyelashes as she stared at the grounds below, where Hagrid had placed hundreds of torches. They flickered in the ice cold wind. _

_Once again, h__er discouraged thoughts drifted to Malfoy, former follower of Voldemort, whom she had tried to teach how to conjure a Patronus in four days. It would have been the perfect proof of his new allegiance to the Light Side. But, of course, he hadn't succeeded, despite the fact that he had surprised and deeply impressed her by his spectacular progress._

_He was definitely very talented, b__ut having to learn to cast a full bodied Patronus in such a short amount of time was something that hadn't even been asked from Harry to accomplish. Nevertheless, she had wanted him to succeed, even had hoped for that as if she wasn't merely his teacher, but his strive to master the spell had become hers as well._

_Excited calls rising up from the other side of the terrace pulled Hermione from her thoughts and with a spark of interest, she straightened to approach the group of gloating teachers who were preparing for their upcoming piece of art. _

_At that moment, the movement of a dark silhouette that sailed__ through the snow caught her attention. Then an ordinary school-owl landed on the balustrade and sticked out his paw to her. A small note had been attached to it. Curiously, she unfolded the thin parchment and her eyes widened as they flew across the few lines written on it. _

_The __teachers didn't notice when one of the few students present on the balcony quietly left._

-x-x-x-

_The old year held its breath before the new one would arrive with triumphant bangs and brilliant streaks of fire, when Hermione entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and closed the door behind her. _

"_I'm here," she called quietly as her eyes searched the abandoned classroom. Then she found him__, standing before the blackboard. "You wanted to show me something?"_

_The blond, young man that turned around at her arrival nodded guardedly. He didn't__ respond to her question, though, as he glanced at Hermione with a strange expression in his eyes that made something flutter in her stomach. _

_Slowly, she walked down the aisle and she sat down on her usual spot on the school desk, wondering about his reasons for calling her to the abandoned classroom on the brink of new year. Motionlessly, she waited. _

_Malfoy __cast a last hesitant gaze at her, closed his eyes and as the cold night outside exploded in thousands of colours, he called with a controlled voice, "Expecto Patronum!" _

_Hermione's eyes widened in __unexpected surprise when she heard him say those familiar words he'd repeated hundreds of times the past days. But then, her mouth fell open when a lithe animal form sprung from Malfoy's wand and jumped across the classroom. She gasped in shock. _

_For a moment, she could only stare at the soft__ly glowing creature that suddenly lit up the dark space - an actual, full-blown Patronus cast by Draco Malfoy. __Had it been merely hours ago, when she'd watched Malfoy slump against the walls in despair, unable to master the complete spell? Confusion fought with excitement to take the upper hand until a __bright smile broke over her face._

"_You did it! You actually did it!" She jumped from her desk and an uncharacteristically shy expression passed over Malfoy's features before he nodded silently, a relieved grin on his lips. _

_Hermione spun around t__o not miss any of the Patronus' movements as it ran through the classroom with striking flexibility. _

_"This is brilliant. This is absolutely brilliant...," she whispered in delight and narrowed her eyes. "What species is it...?" _

_She focused on the Patronus' __small, lithe body, the thick tail and the little snout. _

_Then realisation made her eyebrows raise in surprise. "It's a…"_

"_A ferret. I know,__" Malfoy cut her off, obviously thinking of the many times the Golden Trio had called him so, after the unfortunate event with Professor Moody. Therefore, it was with some bitterness that he added, "Rather ironic, don't you think?"_

"_Actually, it fits you," Hermione replied, but there was no mockery in her voice as she reached out a hand and the ferret-shaped Patronus sat up, sniffing it curiously. "A ferret is an agile and resourceful predator and a brilliant Seeker." __A melancholy smile momentarily passed over her face. "It's also related to the otter."_

_Malfoy raised his eyebrows, wondering what made her enclose this specific piece of information, but got distracted when the Patronus suddenly ran up Hermione's arms. _

_She let out a small gasp in surprise and turned her head to follow its movements. The animal playfully jumped over her head a few times and then affectionately curled itself around her neck. His little snout sniffed her cheek and she __giggled softly. "Oh look, I think he likes me."_

_Malfoy's eyes, however, had widened in horror at his Patronus' obvious enthusiasm for Hermione. He raised his wand to extinguish the silver ferret, but suddenly found himself unable to do so as he watched the small animal play with Hermione._

_Malfoy took a step back into the safety of the shadows, veiling his face, and a longing expression passed over his features as she stroked the Patronus' lithe body with her slender fingers.__  
_

_Finally, he managed to whisper hoarsely, "Finite Incantatum." _

_The ferret disappeared in a glowing puff of smoke and Hermione looked up at Malfoy with the first gentle smile she'd ever given him. _

_She didn't notice that his eyes softened ever so slightly._

* * *

After endless times of empty darkness, the dreams that started to whirl through Hermione's mind had been confusing streaks of purple chambers, blending with light blue ones, and silhouettes of a young man standing behind the curtains, sometimes clad in black, sometimes clad in grey.

Sometimes, she drifted to the surface of her consciousness, regaining some attention to her surroundings. One time, she felt how strong arms gently lay her to rest upon a soft bed. She was covered with a downy duvet, then smooth fingers brushed a string of hair from her face, the warm hand lingering on her cheek longer than necessary.

Another time, she heard muffled voices sounding from outside the room, speaking in agitated pitches. Hermione recognized a male voice with a slight and familiar drawl in it and an affected voice belonging to a woman.

Then she sunk back into oblivion again.

-x-x-x-

The next thing she noticed was someone gently shaking her shoulder.

"Wake up, Hermione," a voice, she recognized as Malfoy's, sounded close to her ear."You have to go."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and when his words sunk in, her eyes shot open and she looked straight into a pair of gray eyes that gazed at her searchingly, looking for any signs of her not feeling well. She appeared to be lying in bed and the blond young man was leaning over her with his hands placed next to her on both of her sides, his face mere inches from hers. Her eyes widened even further at the unexpected intimacy.

"Why?" She whispered, not trusting her voice, and he pulled back a little. A pang of disappointment involuntarily shot through her stomach.

"Because the inspectors are waiting for you and it's almost evening. You're expected home soon," Malfoy said without his usual sneer, his features only betraying a certain melancholy.

For a moment, Hermione tried to process this information as Malfoy straightened up entirely, looking down on her figure lying on the bed.

"Where am I?" She then asked, her caramel eyes wandering confused through a luxuriant bedroom.

"In one of the guest rooms. Your male inspector and I have carried you there, after you collapsed," Malfoy replied.

Hermione watched his darkening face and she gasped in dismay. She had been so sure that she could cope with the confrontation of seeing that drawing room again and even had told Harry so. But, she had collapsed after all. And had put Draco Malfoy, whose steps were watched like a hawk because of his history, in a very difficult situation. She squeezed shut her eyes and turned her head away in shame.

"I'm sorry. I can understand if you're mad with me," she said softly.

For a moment, confusion marked his face, then he shook his head.

"I'm mad with myself," he said evenly, before leaning forward again to get Hermione into a seated position. "I should have never let you go into that drawing room again."

That had probably been what the fight in the hallway had been about, Hermione guessed. She could understand Mrs. Malfoy's dismay with the situation and realising this only added to the regret she already felt.

Wearily, she laid her head on his shoulder, subconsciously inhaling his scent as he hauled her up. It slightly resembled the soap from the Prefect's bathroom she'd smelled on him before, only more subtle. Somehow, it had a calming effect on her.

"Here, drink this. It will make you feel better. " He reached toward the bedside table and gave her a glass filled with some potion. Obediently, Hermione took the glass from him and drank. A warm feeling spread through her stomach as he carefully drew back his arm, fluffing up her cushion.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, searching eyes looking at her intently.

Taken aback by the fierce look in his eyes, Hermione lowered her gaze as a blush rushed to her cheeks. "Better," she exaggerated it, trying to suppress the dizziness coming up again.

He seemed to believe it, because he nodded with some relief. "Good, you have some colour returning to your face as well."

He straightened up, but was held back when Hermione grabbed his forearm. "Wait. You didn't contact Ron or Harry, didn't you?"

He looked at her hand holding him and some extra colour was added to the blush on Hermione's cheeks when hastily she let go.

Then he shook his head. "No, I'd rather Side-Along Apparate you to your house, than having Weasley at my door."

He seemed to contemplate that possibility for a moment, then smiled bitterly. "Your inspectors are waiting for you in the library. You've trained them well, I must say. They wouldn't hear of leaving you behind."

Hermione smiled weakly and tried to stand up. She only succeeded when he took her by the elbows and stabilized her. But, the moment a triumphant smile formed on her lips, a white, blinding pain shot through her head and she winced. "Ow!"

In a reflex she grabbed her head as the world suddenly danced around her.

"Careful now. It will pass," she heard Malfoy say while he kept supporting her.

He was right. After a few moments, the warm potion in her stomach started to clear her head and strengthen her muscles. The spinning feeling subsided.

Finally, Hermione looked up at him. "I think I'm all right, now. Please, don't bother with bringing me home. I should be fine and I have my inspectors…"

"No," Malfoy simply said. "You're not all right. The potion I gave you merely provides you with just enough strength to be able to Side-Along Disapparate. We're not allowed to keep anything stronger in the house."

A shadow passed over Hermione's face at his words, but he disregarded it as he continued, "You're exhausted because you collapsed and while that happened in my house, I won't just let you go off with your inspectors."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, too tired to argue as the guilt about the situation she'd put him in wrenched her heart again. Despite that, her mouth curled up in the slightest of smiles.

"You're becoming a real Gryffindor, Malfoy," she whispered, "for going through all this trouble for me."

"Please!" He scoffed, but his eyes lit up in slight humor as he replaced his hands from her elbows to her shoulders, turning her toward the door.

"The Apparition Room is not too far away," he then apologized.

* * *

_It would be Easter soon, and the Potions classroom was littered with eggs painted in various, cheerful colours, when Hermione sat down at her desk alone. Ginny was absent for try-o__uts with the Hollyhead Harpies. With an indescribable feeling of anticipation, Hermione unpacked her bag for the lesson to start. _

_It was the first time Ginny failed to attend__ Potions class since the serene days during the holidays when she'd taught Malfoy how to conjure a Patronus. After New Year's Eve they had distanced themselves from each other once more and as more time passed by, it started to feel like those lessons had never happened._

_Hermione__ looked up when a minute after her arrival, Malfoy entered the classroom and headed for her desk straight away, sitting down beside her with a small nod. She couldn't suppress a grin. News travelled fast._

_S__he took a glance at him. Somehow, a similar anticipation seemed to speak from the way he put down his wand next to hers and his normally reserved features held a hint of interest as he cast a quick gaze at her. It made a feeling akin to gladness stir in the pit of her stomach, as the corners of her mouth quirked up in a faint smile._

_Patiently, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin waited for Professor Slughorn to come over to them and give them instructions on a potion to brew. However, the teacher merely sat down at his desk after he'd given instructions to all of the other partnered up students for a potion to brew and opened The Daily Prophet._

_When after four minutes or so, the professor hadn't even began to look in their direction, Malfoy drawled on a low voice, "You scared him off, Granger." _

"_Apparently," Hermione snorted, shaking her head. "Well then…" _

_She reached for her book and her eyes sparkled in secret amusement. "… shall we make the choice for the Professor, then?"_

_Smoothly, they had started to brew a potion which sounded to both of their liking and soon, the liquid gained a brilliant magenta colour, starting to dissolve in a glistening vapor, as it whirled inside the cauldron. Through the steam coming from the boiling brew, caramel and silver eyes met and Hermione and Malfoy smirked in satisfaction. _

_They sat back in__ the small desk, waiting for Professor Slughorn to muster his courage and collect his precious potion. _

_Having grown accustomed to the feeling of their limbs touching, they didn't try to pull back from the other anymore as they sat in a peaceful silence._

_From the corner of her eye Hermione studied the Slytherin's profile - the light blond hair falling over his forehead, his sharp, aloof features, the slender, aristocratic hands resting patiently in his lap. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what was passing in his mind as he sat there, the nowadays ever present air of melancholy over him. _

_She noticed that he sometimes cast a wistful glance at the small cellar window near the arched ceiling, from where faint sounds of voices calling drifted into the classroom. _

"_Malfoy…," Hermione started hesitantly, but clapped her mouth shut when she saw that Professor Slughorn finally moved in their direction. At that moment, a sudden screeching sound came from the small window above, which then crashed into thousands of pieces. In a reflex Hermione squeezed shut her eyes, when she suddenly felt the weight of a body leaning over her, shielding her from the razor sharp splinters showering down. _

_Hermione gasped for air as she tried to grasp what had just happened. A pair of strong arms held her tightly against a warm chest and a head rested on the back of her shoulder. The scent of bath soap from the Prefect's bathroom reached her nose. Her eyes shot open and she recognised a familiar, heavily embroidered, green and silver emblem of a snake on a black background. Her heart missed a beat._

"_Can't breathe…,__" Hermione finally choked. Immediately, the iron grip on her shoulders lessened and she was pulled up quickly. Sitting up straight, she watched as Malfoy shook the splinters from his robes and out of his blond hair. Then his gaze crossed hers and she opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly looked away, embarrassment replacing the usual cold impassiveness. That's when she saw that his eyes widened. He turned around and mouthed, 'wait.' _

_Before Hermione knew what happened he was out of the desk and with an astounding agility moved through the panicked chaos in class, lightly jumped up another desk and with a swift and effective movement grabbed something out of the air. _

_Hermione watched in astonishment__ as he turned around, holding in his hand a winged, golden ball that fought to get out of his determined grasp. _

_The cause of all the trou__ble. A golden Snitch. _

_The c__lass fell silent, gaping at the hated Slytherin's spectacular actions, but Malfoy ignored them and with an unintentional elegant movement he stepped from the desk he had been standing on. He strolled back leisurely to where Hermione was still sitting in her desk, put his hand on the table and bowed over to her. Expertly, he let the small, golden ball close its wings. _

"_And Slytherin wins the game!" He smirked teasingly. His challenging, grey eyes glistened as vividly as during that moment on New Year's Eve, when she'd witnessed him casting a full bodied Patronus for the first time. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she looked up at him. _

_Though the Quidditch Captains had been given permission by the Headmistress to select eighth-years for their teams, for obvious reasons Slytherin had started the season with another, but lesser talented Seeker. Hermione realised that Malfoy had missed playing Quidditch. It had perhaps been his only passion and he had been talented._

_Her caramel gaze softened as she slightly cocked her head, her curls falling over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said simply, "for shielding me just now."_

_His smirk faltered and he straightened up, nodding curtly. He started to pack his bag. _

"_Malfoy…"_

_He looked up, a blank expression in his eyes. _

"_Well done. You really are a good Seeker," Hermione added quietly and as their eyes locked for a moment she noticed the pain and regret in there, mixed with silent gratitude. He nodded._

_At that moment Professor Slughorn cried out," Oh no! My potion! The glass has spoiled it completely!"_

* * *

When Malfoy opened the door, two very worried faces appeared in Hermione's view. "Miss Granger! Are you all right? What happened?"

Hermione stopped and instinctively grabbed Malfoy's arm as she collected her whirling thoughts.

"I passed out," she said simply. "Draco and I were talking about our Hogwarts days, when I fainted."

She didn't dare to look up at the young man holding her, but she had felt his body flinch at her mentioning of his first name.

He didn't comment on it though and she let out a breath of relief, inwardly wondering why she had done that, anyway. She wasn't sure. Partly, because she wanted to reassure the inspectors of Malfoy's good intentions, partly because it seemed right, somehow.

The inspectors looked at each other doubtfully, but Malfoy cut off further questions.

"The Apparition Room is right ahead," he said tersely and Hermione felt grateful for him protecting her against their nosiness. "Please, follow me."

-x-x-x-

The Apparition Room was a small, empty space at the end of the hallway with white plastered walls and no windows.

Hermione stepped inside, trying to fight the dizziness coming up again as she walked slowly to a spot near the center. She held her hand clasped around Malfoy's arm, as his other hand rested on her shoulder, stabilizing her.

Having seen that the inspectors weren't about to leave their colleague behind, Malfoy instructed them curtly as the female inspector closed the door. "We're Disapparating to the Burrow. From there, you can leave for home."

His gaze softened somewhat when he turned to Hermione and added on a low voice, "I think it's best you hold onto me entirely, so we won't risk you letting go of my arm and get Splinched."

"I'd rather not," Hermione agreed wearily and after a split second of hesitation, she slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. Shyly, she pressed herself against him, her cheeks colouring when she felt his breath hitch slightly in the process. She hoped he didn't feel her body respond equally to his closeness.

Then he wrapped his arms around her shoulders as well, pulling her tightly against him.

For a moment, it seemed to Hermione as though the world disappeared around them, leaving only the two of them as their bodies were closer to one another than they had ever been before. Despite the pounding of the blood in her ears, it felt safe, it felt warm. It felt right. And it was terribly unnerving.

Then she felt his chin coming to rest upon the crown of her head and with a forceful jerk, they Disapparated from Malfoy Manor.

* * *

_Summer had arrived at Hogwarts and the NEWT-students were soon to be reduced to mere shadows of themselves as they studied for the most important exams in their lives. _

_The last match of the Quidditch season would be taking place next Saturday. Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. __And when she arrived from Ancient Runes in Potion's class, Hermione found Malfoy already sitting in her desk. She paused in her steps, watching him in only mild surprise. He was reading notes with a concentrated expression on his face. The sun, which had gained in intensity, made his blond, bowed head gleam._

_Most students didn't expect a real lesson anymore, as it was the last one before their exams would commence. Malfoy clearly wasn't one of them. _

_A smile ghosted over her lips when she quietly sat down next to him, feeling the hot summer air brush her skin through the repaired, open window. _

"_I was thinking that we may give Slughorn a parting-gift," he said, without looking up, "since our last potion didn't work out for him." His quiet voice held a slight hint of amusement. _

_Hermione looked at the tin cauldron in front of them, recognizing the melancholy lacing his voice._

_She __had come to appreciate the times they had to work together during Potions class. She valued his quiet intelligence and calm, attentive attitude, which had only attributed to her curiosity about him. _

_As their final year drew to an end and NEWT-exams would arrive soon, she had silently hoped for one last time of peacefully working together with Malfoy in Potions class before they would go separate ways. She'd actually missed__ the small period of time in which she'd taught him the Patronus spell. Perhaps, he felt the same. _

_Hermione nodded at last and took her Potions book from her bag. _

"_That would be a good idea," she said a little huskily._

-x-x-x-

_Professor Slughorn didn't enter the classroom until after they had already started preparing ingredients for their potion. He had been a little late, expecting his NEWT-students to be in an exuberant and not too productive mood, but raised his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the eighth-year Gryffindor and Slytherin bowed over a steaming cauldron. The picture had become his favourite over the year and, despite himself, a hopeful expression lit up his face. _

_At that moment the eighth-years suddenly looked up simultaneously and smirked when they caught him staring at them. He flinched slightly and, averting his gaze, he hurried over to his desk. _

-x-x-x-

_Almost two__ hours later, Hermione quietly read the last instruction in the book and watched as Malfoy with determined movements brushed the nightshade from his silver knife and into the cauldron. The brew in the cauldron started to whirl around in a glistening vapour, like it had done before. _

"_So," Malfoy suddenly asked tentatively, as they stared into the cauldron, their heads mere inches from each other, "what are you going to do, when you've left Hogwarts?"_

_Hermione's eyes widened slightly, not having expected such a personal question from him. She took in a sharp breath, not certain if he really was interested to hear about her future plans. Since his apparent reluctance to answer such a question before, she had refrained from asking, but she felt that, though it was barely noticeable, things had changed, he had changed, since that last time. And she wasn't one to avoid a question._

_Hermione hesitated, though. She hadn't told anyone about her ambitions yet and she expected Malfoy to be the least understanding of all. "I've been wanting to work in the __Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical_ _Creatures__, to improve the lives of house-elves," she then confessed softly, bracing herself for his reaction._

_But, the snide remark she had expected never came. Instead, he only nodded a bit melancholically and Hermione asked gingerly, "And you?"_

_The breath he let out resembled a silent sigh when he replied, "I don't know. Return to Wiltshire, I guess." _

_His voice sounded a little downcast, and Hermione remembered his remark from earlier that year. 'Anything to get away from home.' _

_He probably envied her, for being able to pursuit her own career. And with her being one third of The Golden Trio that wouldn't be a problem at all. _

_Malfoy, on the other hand, wasn't expected to work for a living, what with his father still being the wealthiest wizard in all western Europe. For him, there was no escaping the surely tense and embittered atmosphere at the manor after the fall of the Dark Lord._

_As she mused over this, he suddenly spoke up, jolting her back from her thoughts as he kept his eyes trained at the magenta, vaporizing fluid in the cauldron. "Listen, Granger. Since this probably will be the last time we'll ever speak to each other, I'll say this now." He drew in a shallow breath. "I want to thank you. Despite the things I've done to you and your friends before, you were the only one in school to be civil with me and even help me… I… I appreciate that. You've made this year bearable for me." _

_His eyes flashed acros__s the classroom where the seventh-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students were busy biding their time with talking and laughing. His classmates, whom, along with the rest of the school, hadn't hidden their loathing for him. Awkwardly, he then fixed his gaze on the cauldron before them. He wasn't used to putting himself in a vulnerable position._

"_I have no reason to treat you the way they do. You saved us and your mother saved Harry and for that I'm forever grateful," Hermione responded honestly. At her quietly spoken words she felt Malfoy flinch beside her and through the steam she saw he turned to look at her, a look of utter astonishment in his normally aloof eyes. _

"_Saved you…" he whispered and suddenly an anger flared up in his gaze, which seemed not directed at Hermione, but inwardly. At his anguished gaze, Hermione's breath hitched and a pang of an old sore unexpectedly shot through her. For a moment, she looked up at the ceiling, fighting against tears welling up in her eyes._

"_Besides," she then hoarsely changed the subject, "we haven't always been easy on you, too."_

_He snorted scornfully. "Well, that's absolutely true," he sneered in his familiar Slytherin way, but it didn't sound convincing._

_The noise of the class talking and laughing sounded shrill in their ears as they sat in Hermione's desk, heads bowed dejectedly, crammed in the small space for the last time. _

_Hermione closed her eyes, trying to calm down her chaotic thoughts, which were whirling around painful memories of Malfoy Manor and the unnerving feeling of Malfoy's left arm and leg pressed against her right ones. When Professor Slughorn finally arrived before their desk, a keen eye on the promising cauldron, a regretful smile formed on both their lips. _

_Then they rose for the last time from the tight school desk, their hands brushing momentarily in the process. Both of them subconsciously closed their eyes, before they each went their separate ways - Hermione to the Gryffindor Tower and Malfoy to the Slytherin Dungeon. Worlds apart._

_They graduated with an Outstanding for their Potions NEWT._

_The l__ast time Hermione saw Draco Malfoy was at the graduation ceremony, where he stiffly received his diploma scroll with the Hogwarts seal on it. When he walked down the aisle, accompanied by a polite applause, their gazes met fleetingly and as Ron glared daggers at the blond Slytherin, she could swear he bowed his head ever so slightly when passing by. _

_The Malfoys__ had left the Great Hall the moment the ceremony ended._

* * *

Night had already fallen over England and the Burrow was covered in darkness, but for a few weak lights coming from the kitchen-window, when the four of them arrived at the Weasley family home.

"You can let go now, Granger," Hermione heard Malfoy's voice come from above. "We've arrived at the Burrow."

Hermione struggled to open one eye and discovered that she still clung to Malfoy like to a life-buoy. Flustered, she let her hands drop from his back and the crumbled fabric of his expensive jacket fall from her clenching fingers as she stepped back.

"Sorry," she mumbled and swayed a bit. Immediately, his hands shot out to support her.

"Thanks." Her embarrassment couldn't be bigger now.

"You should say something to the inspectors. They're waiting for a signal from you that it's safe for them to go," Malfoy responded on a hushed tone and nodded inconspicuously to a point behind her.

With difficulty Hermione turned around and did her best to produce a reassuring smile.

-x-x-x-

A few moments later the inspectors had Disapparated with a light pop, after casting a last dubious look at Malfoy.

He didn't seem to care as he kept his grey eyes trained on the young woman in front of him. Worry flickered in his gaze when she closed her eyes, her face pale.

"I can bring you to the fence. Do you think you'll manage from there?"

Hermione grimaced and nodded. He didn't want to get caught carrying a half unconscious Granger to the Burrow. And he was right.

She looked up at him, waiting for her vision to sharpen and see his face. It was half hidden by the dark shadows from the woodland trees behind them and his hair looked almost silver in the light of the waning moon. He had a thoughtful expression on his pale features and something in his eyes made his gaze look softer as he scrutinized her clammy face.

Somehow, he seemed to be different from the person who had opened the door for the inspectors this afternoon. His gaze reminded her of the time at Hogwarts, when they had been obligated to share a small desk at Potions class…

"Malfoy," she started, her weak voice calling before she even knew what she wanted to say to him. The only thing she knew was that he would disappear the moment they would reach the front door across from the woods that shielded them from sight. And she was strangely reluctant for that moment to come.

"Yes?" His gaze was mostly unreadable, but for a flicker of expectancy.

"Thank you for letting me see the drawing room again. It may not seem like it, but I'm very glad that you did."

Malfoy nodded silently, though Hermione sensed that he didn't completely agree with her. He was still holding on to her to keep her steady.

"I hope you'll get rid of those nightmares, now," he then responded quietly and his hands tightened around her elbows for a moment.

A melancholy smile for a moment ghosted over her lips as she saw his tense gaze, full of regret, showing what remained unspoken.

Hermione swallowed. She really wanted to remember the young man standing so close to her now in another way than in the frightful dreams of night. During their last year at Hogwarts he had somewhat lowered his guard for her and had shown her a different side of him.

She had been surprised to discover that he was an intelligent, somewhat sensitive person, with an unusual perceptiveness for the world around him. A person who reluctantly and against his Slytherin nature had placed himself between her and danger two times now. A person who during their last Hogwarts days unknowingly had become the center of her silent fascination.

"I hope so, too," Hermione whispered tiredly. Then an urge stronger than herself made her stand on her tiptoes and lay her hand on his chest. He looked down on her with a surprised gaze in his eyes and his body stiffened, though he didn't step back.

"Thank you," Hermione repeated, her eyes shining with the gratitude she felt toward him.

Then she closed her eyes and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Her lips were met with smoothly shaven skin and despite that the cold of the winter-air had cooled down the silky texture, she felt her lips tingle with an unexpected sensation that shot a jolt of electricity through her body.

He drew in a sharp breath the moment Hermione's lips touched him, but when she pulled back and he finally spoke, his voice was even. "You have to go, or you will collapse again."

At a loss for words, Hermione nodded mutely and silently they started to approach the crooked house. When they reached the fence, Malfoy made sure that she was holding onto it and Hermione silently, regretfully waited for him to leave.

But he seemed hesitant to do so as he bowed his head, his back turned to her.

"This is goodbye, I guess?" Hermione heard him say. The memory of their last Potions class flashed through her mind and she swallowed.

"Well, actually there's something called re-inspection," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He froze, then turned his head slightly to the side, looking down at the ground.

"Re-inspection?" He repeated. "When…?"

"It's a surprise inspection," Hermione cut him off quietly. "I can't say when."

"And I suppose you won't be accompanying the inspectors anymore by then?" Something in his tone of voice suggested that he wished for her to confirm the opposite.

"I… I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet," Hermione said truthfully. She had wanted to make that decision upon the inspectors' progress.

Malfoy nodded slightly, his gaze not averting from the dark ground.

"I'll wait for that moment to come, then," he then said and walked off into the woods with long strides. Only a few moments after Hermione had heard the light pop of Draco Malfoy Disapparating, she had the courage to open the front door, straight into the arms of a startled Molly Weasley.

* * *

**A/N:** _This update has arrived somewhat later than I'd expected, because of the problems FFN is experiencing with the bigger fandoms. Luckily, some people on the FFN forums have found some ways around these problems, which enabled me to post this chapter at last._

_I was very glad with__ your complimenting reviews on the previous three chapters! _

_Thank you Cheygrl94, Cathymalfoy and an anonymous reviewer for appreciating the character portrayal (I'm always trying to keep characters as much in character as possible) and thank you all of the other reviewers for liking the premise of the story. _

_This has been the last chapter in part 1 of this story (this is also why this chapter has become somewhat long). A chapter in which we discover the true form of Draco's Patronus, which turned out not to be a dragon, but a ferret - an animal that resembles Hermione's otter quite a bit. But, what made him succeed so suddenly in mastering the spell? I especially loved writing the sequence where Draco's Patronus plays with Hermione... _

_The story will continue with part 2: Re-inspection._

_I hope I'll be able to update the next chapter soon, depending on the servers over at FFN. Thank you for reading!_


	5. Prologue Draco

**The Inspection on Elfish**** Labour**** Conditions**

**Part 2****: Re-Inspection**

**Chapter 1: Prologue Draco**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, Tristan

* * *

Draco lay sprawled on the downy duvet, eyes wide as he stared at the elaborate silk canopy crowning his four-poster bed. In the nightly darkness surrounding him, the silk had adopted a vague muddy grey, but he knew that in broad daylight the canopy would return to its original navy blue colour.

It wouldn't be long before that very daylight would arrive, as a hesitant grey already peeked through the heavy, brocade curtains, but sleep never had been further away from him than now.

After he had safely returned Granger to the Weasleys, Draco had ignored his disgruntled mother who had wanted to waylay him outside the Apparition Room and hastened to his room. He had barely been able to keep himself from running. Upon closing the double doors behind him, he had leaned against the panelled wood and squeezed shut his eyes against the overwhelming emotions that had broken through his carefully composed impassiveness. He was shocked to the core.

Finally, he had straightened up, pulled off his jacket and threw it carelessly across the foot of his bed as he violently shook his head to get rid of the memory of holding Granger in his arms and Granger's lips on his cheek.

He had been positive their paths would never cross again, after they both had left Hogwarts. But, about a year ago, his family had received a letter from the Ministry in which all families who kept registered house-elves were informed about new regulations to improve on the living conditions in general and the labour conditions in particular of house-elves. The Malfoy family was hereby ordered to live up to the new rules.

Draco remembered that his father had angrily smacked the letter on the table, at what he saw as yet another attack on wizard privileges, but Draco had only shaken his head to hide his smirk as one name crossed his mind. Granger.

He hadn't heard from her for six years, as each had gone their respective ways. But it was nice to see that she had actually achieved the goals she had confided him in before anyone else.

* * *

_After a quick trial wh__ich had taken only a couple of weeks, Draco and his father had been acquitted from any charges by the Wizengamot, due to Potter's weighty intercession during their trial. _

_The day the court had passed judgment on the accused Death Eaters, __Draco had motionlessly undergone the public reading of the sentence. A slight disappointment had damped his relief when the Minister of Magic's final, delivering words sunk in. He was free. _

_In the gallery behind him, his __normally so unemotional mother had publically burst into tears, which, he remembered, had vaguely surprised him. He had avoided to look at his father's triumphant smile._

_A tumult that had broken out among the crowd had accompanied him as he left the dock, reflecting his own conflicted feelings on the outcome of the trial. The grumbling of a dissatisfied audience sharply reminded him of the fact that his acquittal merely served to accommodate to Potter's sense of justice. His own feelings of guilt about his previous support of the Dark Side had been inconsequential in this matter. Other than that, the favourable sentence burdened him with an obligation much heavier than any assignment the Dark Lord ever could have placed on him - to make good use of the chance offered to him by a society which, despite his acquittal, had morally condemned him._

-x-x-x-_**  
**_

_It had been three days later, when__ Pansy Parkinson had showed up at the Manor and congratulated him with a false, enthusiastic smile on her face. Draco hadn't heard from her from the moment his family had fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord. Reluctantly, he'd let her in._

_Though his mother seemed glad enough to see Pansy again, Draco had merely waited patiently through her ramblings about the horrid treatment of her pureblood family since Potter had defeated the Dark Lord. Silently, he had formed his decision as he drank his tea._

_When she finally left, he had politely but determinedly asked her not to visit again. She hadn't taken it well, but he didn't care anymore._

-x-x-x-

_Then, halfway__ the rainy August that followed a searing hot July, the letter from Hogwarts had arrived, inviting Mr. Draco Malfoy to return to school and complete his education. All last year's seventh-year students had received the same offer._

_His father had been sc__eptical, even offended, not convinced of the need for his son to return to 'that' school again. _

_But, Draco merely looked down on the familiar emerald green writing, signed by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, in silence. His knuckles had turned white at his intense grip as he considered the possibility. Though he was surprised by the unexpected letter, he found the idea of returning to Hogwarts for one last year rather appealing. _

_His thoughts went back to the past two months following the end__ing of the war. It felt as if he had been wandering around aimlessly and never had he felt so utterly lost and out of place at home. He had only been able to escape the bitter atmosphere the Manor was drenched with when he took a walk through the gardens or went on a broomstick ride across the county. Which he had been doing a lot, lately._

_Reluctantly and with a lot of pressure from Potter, his family been rewarded with an Order of Merlin, Third Class for their important role in the defeat of the Dark Lord. But, they remained social outcasts, on both sides of the former parties. Draco knew taht it had only been their obvious wealth and standing that had driven Pansy back to his doorstep again._

_Inevitably, h__is decision had been made almost the instant that his heart had leapt up when he had noticed the familiar envelope between the other mail on the silver platter. _

_Draco looked up determindedly._

_There was a large possibility that he was going to be ignored in school as much as he was on his rare visits to Diagon Alley but he didn't care. He felt that he needed the familiar surroundings, the structure, to accomplish something by himself. _

"_I'm going," he said. _

_His parents didn't try to stop him._

* * *

After graduating from Hogwarts, Draco had tried to pick up his life again from the scattered pieces that was left of it after the Dark Lord's demise. His presence at Hogwarts had legitimately postponed a confrontation with his post-war life, but he'd known that he had to eventually face this black hole that awaited him on the other side of the school year. But, while his parents struggled to straighten out their contribution to the fall of the Dark Side, Draco only felt gratitude that the three of them had survived the war and lived in relative peace.

He had ventured on a few visits to Flourish and Blotts on Diagon Alley and on one of those visits he had met with Astoria Greengrass. He could remember the girl who was the younger sister of one his Slytherin classmates. She was a girl whose proverbial Slytherin cunningness mostly consisted of her using her charms to get her way. The thing he liked the most about her was that she loved books.

He was still having nightmares of the time when the entire Death Eater community shrouded Malfoy Manor in darkness and the paralyzing fear they had spread around them, equalling a flock of Dementors having commandeered his house. And then the Golden Trio had been brought in.

Draco had a talent for Occlumency. The ability to compartmentalise his mind, which had made it possible for him to terrorise the school before, had been a merciful skill to shut down the horrible memories and help him through the day. But, as he had painfully witnessed, there were no mental walls high enough to shut down Granger's agonizing screams that echoed in his dreams as he watched her being tortured by his aunt, over and over again.

There was a reason he hadn't proposed to Astoria yet. He didn't want her to be confronted with his nightly sufferings.

* * *

_As Draco had expected__, only very few former seventh-year students had returned to Hogwarts to complete their education. Unsurprisingly, the majority of them had been Ravenclaws. They had been welcomed by the Headmistress after the Sorting Ceremony and seeing as the eighth-years were expected to rise for the impressed applause from the younger students, Draco reluctantly had straightened to his full length as well. _

_He ignored the sharp hisses around him when he did so, knowing that he had to get used to that, and he let his eyes wander over to the Gryffindor Table where only one person stood, a young woman with a head full of gleaming curls. _

_She slowly turned around, probably looking for other eighth-years among the applauding students, when her gaze crossed his and her eyes widened in undeniable surprise. Clearly, she hadn't noticed his presence at the meeting for Prefects on the train to Hogwarts. _

_Upon their return to school, the Headmistress had maintained in function those of the eighth-years who had been Prefects before, so Draco had hesitantly taken position in a far corner of the compartment and kept himself at the background. He had slightly disappointed him that his situation wasn't even special enough for McGonagall to break with tradition and remove him from his position._

_It was then that he had seen that familiar load of gleaming, brown curls, no longer bushy, that cascaded down delicate shoulders and the caramell eyes that looked past him. He noticed the red and gold insignia on her school robes that indicated her as a Gryffindor. Hermione Granger. _

_Her sudden appearance, statuesque in her long robes, had knocked the breath out of him. An agonizing sensation, __which had been slumbering inside of him for a long time, suddenly washed over him with unexpected force. _

_Guilt. Abso__lute, bottomless guilt toward the Gryffindor girl who had suffered so much at the hands of his aunt Bellatrix in his own home. _

_Just when he had been escaping to Hogwarts to put some distance between himself and this ink black part of his memories, t__he sight of Granger reminded him of that time when he'd been following the evil she'd fought against. The sight of her reminded him of all the wrong doings he'd seen, put up with and did nothing against it, almost to the destruction of her and her friends._

_Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists between the pleats of his school robes. Of course, he should have known that _she_ would be returning to Hogwarts as well. That girl's inner Ravenclaw would never had been satisfied with not having completed her formal education._

_Now, he could feel her eyes on him as the eighth-years took their seats once more, before the Weasel's sister distracted her. The remainder of the dinner he kept his gaze down, only to disappear quickly to the Slytherin Dormitories upon the first chance._

* * *

He had missed Granger after their graduation. Draco wasn't afraid to admit it. The Patronus lessons and their few encounters during Potions Class had kept the loneliness at bay and his initial wariness of her had slowly melted away when he had noticed that she of all people, held no grudge against him. In fact, they had long been past the figments of the heroine or the traitor other people held them for as they had silently acknowledged and respected the scars that had been brought to the other's soul.

And they had found surprisingly good company in each other.

It had been upon his return to the Manor that he had started to realise the major influence his final year at Hogwarts with Granger had had on his state of mind. Because of her he could look at himself in the mirror again.

Though Draco had known that after their final year at Hogwarts they would most likely never speak again, it wasn't difficult to keep some track of her life.

Her picture would often show up in The Daily Prophet, whether in the serious part of the newspaper as a Ministry official, or in the gossip area whenever she attended a ball with Potter and the Weasleys. Sometimes, Draco was present at such a ball himself, but the situation never allowed for more than a polite nod at each other from the other side of the room.

Draco sighed, pinching his nose as memories of today's events drifted to the surface.

She had been wanting to see the drawing room. The moment he had overcome the initial shock of seeing her standing at his door, he had known.

His cautious gaze had followed her as she lightly stepped past him, his eyes trained on her back and he had briefly wondered if the House-Elves Labour Inspection, or whatever it was called, was only a decoy, a front. But, as he had heard the inspectors quietly discussing the task ahead, he had acknowledged this Slytherin way of thinking would never crossed her righteous Gryffindor's mind. Granger always put her heart into everything and improving on the lives of house elves was her most important goal.

Being able to step by at Malfoy Manor would merely have been... a convenient chance.

* * *

_Draco had considered it a relief that neither Potter nor the Weasel seemed to have__ cared enough to join Granger when she returned to Hogwarts. He gratefully settled into the school's daily routine and found in studying some of the peace and quiet he had so desperately longed for the last few months. _

_A day after his arrival at Hogwar__ts, Draco had been summoned to the Headmistress' office, to discuss his duties as a Prefect. It didn't surprise him - he'd already expected as much. _

_With her piercing, stern gaze __Professor McGonagall had looked at the young man who stood quietly before her, scrutinizing his impeccable appearance and the patient, polite expression on his reserved features. _

_Something about__ his attitude seemed to please her and her old features softened somewhat when she said sharply, but not unfriendly, "I will come to the point straight away, Mr. Malfoy. As you have noticed all of the retuning eighth-years who have been Prefects before, will remain in function for the upcoming school year. And though your behaviour as a Prefect in the past has shown severe disdain for the function, in the whole existence of the school it has never occurred that a Prefect, not even Voldemort," she paused for a moment, but he forced himself not to flinch, "has been removed from his or her position. I'm not willing to break with that tradition, especially not considering your part in helping Potter to defeat Voldemort." _

_Now he did flinch. He was still touchy about that._

"_However," Professor McGonagall continued as she cast a knowing gaze at him over the rim of her small glasses, "most of the students, or their parents for that matter, will not understand the delicacy of the course of events. Therefore, I have decided that, while you'll remain a Prefect in name, with the privileges that come with the title, you will not be allowed to give and take points from the other students and impose punishments." _

_He nodded quietly under her fixed gaze. "I understand, Professor McGonagall."_

_His reply earned him another of her piercing gazes, softened by the slight raise of her eyebrows. She didn't comment on it, though._

_It hadn't been until he had already reached the winding stairs that she had called him back, an encouraging smile lighting up her stern features._

"_I really am very glad with your return, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you'll have a good year. Good luck."_

* * *

"Draco?"

A soft, muffled voice, accompanied by a knock, sounded from behind the door. He was immediately pulled from his train of thoughts and noticed the morning sun peeking through the curtains. Outside, the birds had started twittering hours ago. Suppressing a groan, he raked his hand over his face, sat up straight and swung his legs over the bed. The door opened soundlessly.

"How was your night, dear?"

He blinked against the angry light that suddenly came in when his mother determinedly opened the curtains. Through the slits of his eyes tearing up, he saw her elegant, statuesque silhouette approaching him. The blinding light around her made her look unearthly, ethereal and her blonde hair seemed to glow as she bent over, putting a hand to his shoulder. Over the course of the war, her face had lost some of its haughtiness, leaving only beauty.

Her blue eyes shone with a hint of worry. She knew about his nightmares.

Draco sighed. "I'm all right, mother, only a bit tired. I didn't get much sleep tonight," he toned down his insomniac state of the night past.

A shadow passed over his mother's face at his words.

"It's that girl, isn't it?" Narcissa's voice had grown slightly colder when she spoke. "You shouldn't have accompanied her home, Draco, she isn't your respon―"

"She was, mother, we've been through this yesterday." His weary voice held a sharp tone. "Or would you rather have had Weasley at your door?"

Narcissa remained silent, knowing that her son was right. She knew it could severely threaten their precarious situation if the Malfoy family was to be suspected of bringing any harm to Hermione Granger.

"I suppose not." Draco finally heard her say as she straightened herself. She shot him a piercing look, which he avoided, afraid of what she might see in his.

With a light squeeze of his shoulder she turned to leave when Draco, almost involuntarily, called after her, "She will come back, you know. A re-inspection, she called it."

Narcissa stiffened, but her reaction wasn't anything like he would expect.

"Well," she said dryly, "you've something to look forward to, then."

Draco's eyes widened, but before he could respond, his mother had already closed the door behind her.

* * *

_He spent very little tim__e in the Slytherin Common Room,__ where __conversations died down and eyes followed him warily whenever he entered what used to be his favourite hang-out place with the Chesterfield sofas surrounding the roaring fire. __He rather went to the library, instead. __The quiet atmosphere in there provided him with a break from the suspicious scrutiny he was being followed with by the other students. The books didn't judge him._

_The first time he went to the library __had been after Professor Slughorn had teamed him up with Granger in Potions Class. He had been looking around, in search of a good place to sit down, when his eyes crossed a pair of familiar, caramel ones. Hermione Granger, who sat across from the entrance to the library, looked at him from the corner of her eye. She blinked when his gaze intercepted hers and he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes._

_As his whole being had become tuned to avoid the girl whose presence reminded him of events he didn't want to remember, he had n__oticed that she had been taking peeks at him before. It irritated him, that she apparently couldn't just leave him alone like the other suspicious students who were whispering behind his back. _

_During the last Potions Class Draco had noticed something else, though. Of course, she had been wary when they were squeezed into a school desk together. After all, he was Draco Malfoy, her former nemesis. _

_But, when she quietly started to read the instructions, he hadn't sensed any of the same fear, disgust or plain loathing he encountered with everyone else. Instead, he had felt a distinct curiosity radiating from her and only the dark and troubled past they shared seemed to keep her from speaking with the Slytherin._

_Sobered by the horrifying period__ when the Dark Lord and his minions had been sponging off his family, a period of time in which he had seen the absolute worst humans could possibly be capable of, Draco had distanced himself from the destructive ideology he had been born and raised in. He had no illusions, though, that he could possibly begin to apologize to her for what had transpired over the past seven years, so he chose to avert his gaze every time the Gryffindor past him by in the corridors. _

_But, to his surprise, he had __found that working together on this potion with Granger was actually rather pleasant. Almost immediately they had recognized each other's talent for Potions and the task ahead led to their first civil conversation ever. It had made Granger finally express what he now knew to be the curiosity he'd seen in her eyes, ever since she'd noticed his presence in school for the first time._

_He had been wary and defensive and when she disappointedly withdrew into herself, he suddenly missed the almost companionable atmosphere that marked their first cooperation at Potions. And he realised that her lack of hostility had actually been a merciful relief to him. __He had fixed his gaze at the cauldron before them as he wondered how it was that Granger, with the history they had together, didn't seem to share the other students' low opinion on him. _

_It was __when Hermione started to pile up her books before her with a downcast expression on her face, when he realised that it was because she had been there. Because she, like no one else in school, had been involved with the fall of the Dark Lord and she knew what had made him do the things he had done, either in favour of… the Dark Lord or in Potter's._ _Two sides, same battle._

_She looked quite shocked when he suddenly, honestly answered her question. An answer he didn't wish to repeat. But he knew she had understood him and when he looked around in the library, searching for a good place to sit down, he felt that the door __which he had almost slammed shut, was still opened on a chink._

_With a slow nod they acknowledged each other's presence in the library and Draco sat down beside on of the Gothic, leaded windows, not too far from Granger's book filled desk. _

_It had been the start of his return to the library on a daily basis, for studying__, but also for simply being in the presence of the one person in the whole school who didn't loathe him. _

* * *

**A/N:** _This is_ _the first chapter that is written from Draco's point of view, starting from the moment where the previous chapter left off, with a prologue for Draco. This enables me to delve deeper into his thoughts and feelings on his life and Hermione._

_I want to thank all of you who have reviewed. I'm really glad that you all like the way the relationship between Hermione and Draco is developing. Also, I'm thrilled with your enthusiastic response to the previous chapter (I'm glad you didn't find it too long) and the fact that the number of reviews is building up, which is very encouraging. __  
_

_Thank you for reading!_


	6. Evaluation

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 2: Re-Inspection**

**Chapter 2: Evaluation**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, Winterspell

* * *

Four weeks quietly passed by and icy winds of November disappeared to make place for crystal clear skies, as the family awaited the evaluation on the inspection of Malfoy Manor. Nightly snow showers came to blanket the world with sparkling hues of white and as the house-elves brought out the Christmas decoration, Draco got emerged in the assessment of applications for the family charity foundation his father had allowed him to establish.

Christmas was the busiest time of the year.

* * *

_Christmas Eve Draco__ had spent in the Great Hall, somewhat apart from the four other students who'd stayed behind as well. Quietly, he sat to the elaborate Christmas dinner. Like always, he didn't make an effort to participate in the cheerful chatter of the other students around him. Instead, he simply settled for meticulously eating his Christmas pudding as he fixed his gaze on the beautifully decorated Christmas tree before him. _

_The sight reminded him of the glistening tears on Granger's cheeks when she had been staring at the other, enormous Christmas tree in the middle of the Great Hall. _

_He felt a__ stab in his stomach as he remembered the look in Granger's eyes when she'd turned around and their gazes had met. __Never before had he seen such a vulnerable expression on her features and he felt drawn in by the raw emotion that appealed to his own uprooted feelings. An all too familiar feeling of guilt then had washed over him with a force he hadn't experienced since that first time they'd worked together at Potions Class. He didn't awake from his stupor until her eyes, full of agony, had crossed his and he had stumbled back into the shadows. _

_Nevertheless, he found himself back on the castle's doorstep to watch the other students leave for home. His dark gaze searched for only one though. He followed the Gryffindor__ as she petted one of the Thestrals pulling the carriage. Her red and yellow scarf billowed in the icy wind as she finally climbed into the coach. _

_He didn't know if she'd seen the widening of his eyes when she suddenly opened the small window and looked back at him._

_In the darkness, Draco had only caught__ a glimpse of her eyes gleaming in the light of the lantern beside her, before the carriages set into motion. But it had been enough. Enough for him to see that there was no reproach in her melancholy gaze. Enough for the feeling of relief to fill his heart, when he turned around and entered the hallway, one of the very few students to stay behind over the Christmas holidays._

* * *

The foundation Lucius Malfoy had allowed his son to set up, was neutrally named Wiltshire Wizarding Charity Foundation as Draco had preferred not to emphasize its ties with his family. His strategy worked.

During its six years of existence, the foundation had gained a respectable position in the wizarding world. In the process, it had done some good to the dark and damaged reputation of the Malfoy family. As chairman, Draco was gaining influence in the wizarding world as his father once had, though this time based on totally different values. Draco remained heavily aware of the precarious position of his still tattered family name, though. When he picked out the beneficiaries he preferred small projects over large, conspicuous ones and often requested to remain anonymous. The responses were positive.

The most important thing was though that Draco gradually discovered that he actually liked the work that had initially been meant to help him through the day. To his father's surprise he had declined to enlist an assistant to assess the applications. He found the requests an interesting read, if not slightly amusing at times. The Broomstick Association, for example, each year asked for a contribution to their annual fair to support Broomstick riders in the Middle East. The applications, ridiculous as they might be sometimes, showed that the wizarding world was returning to peace and that notion somehow comforted him.

* * *

_When the teachers had declared that Christmas dinner had finished, Draco quickly stood to leave the Great Hall, glad to be able to retreat to his deserted dormitory. Although, deserted… _

_As he briskly walked down the Viaduct Entrance and the Dungeon Corridor to the Slytherin Dungeon, he heard the irregular footsteps of the small first-year Slytherin behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. The boy was the only other Slytherin to stay behind over Christmas and complying with the rules, the first-year followed his Prefect to the dungeon after dinner. It made Draco feel quite uneasy. He had become accustomed to being ignored and__ avoided. And certainly, he wasn't looking for a revival of his responsibilities as a Prefect._

_When the young Malfoy entered the Slytherin Common Room, he immediately headed for the staircase, loosening his tie along the way. He was looking forward to continue reading the book he'd started yesterday evening and enjoy the blissful silence in the deserted dormitory. _

_At that moment the sound of a hesitant voice made him come to a sudden halt. "Look… there's Christmas presents underneath the tree…"_

_The words lingered in the air as Draco slowly turned around. His eyes came to rest on the first-year who stood in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room. A small figure, lost in the enormous and grim empty space. He looked up at his Prefect with an apprehensive but hopeful expression on his face and for a moment, Draco was rooted to his spot, taken aback by the first-year's sudden address. The boy had broken with the Slytherins' carefully maintained silence toward their eighth-year housemate. He had said something to Draco Malfoy. About Christmas presents._

_Finally, Draco let his eyes trail toward the Christmas tree next to the enormous fireplace, which was decorated in green and silver and noticed that the boy was right. A few packages lay underneath the lowest branches. _

_He returned his gaze to __the small first-year, whose name had slipped him, who had been so unfortunate to stay behind over Christmas with the despised Draco Malfoy. He had some inkling as to why, having heard the conversations between his housemates. _

_The boy came from a fanatical family of Death Eaters he had actually gotten to know during the time the Dark Lord had occupied his home. Fanatical indeed. Most members had died or ended up in Azkaban. _

_The little boy was left behind and now stood under custody of the Ministry. He had first entered Hogwarts this September. Draco had already heard of moments during class when this rather sweet-natured boy had caused problems because of the ideas he had been taught to believe in. Something Draco preferred to steer clear from, which wasn't that hard as all of the Slytherins ignored the only eighth-year student in their midst._

_But now, this small boy was looking up at him, his Prefect, as his implied question hung in the air._

_Draco hesitated. His book was waiting for him and he didn't feel like playing happy Christmas time, especially not with this boy whose ideas he had denounced. _

_But, when he looked down on him, he didn't see just another student or a fellow Slytherin, but a small boy, a child, longing for some semblance of a Christmas. A hollow feeling stirred in his stomach as he recognized the loneliness that had driven the boy to address the eighth-year the other Slytherins had taught him to avoid. Which therefore had actually been a brave thing to do._

_This appreciation for the boy's courage finally made Draco's resistance dissipate and he sighed inwardly. Unpacking one present with the first-year wouldn't hurt. His book could wait. _

_He nodded curtly and a smile lit up the boy's features, before he turned around and half walked, half ran for the Christmas tree near the enormous fireplace._

-x-x-x-

_Half an hour later the first-year went to bed a happy child, carrying a book about Quidditch teams sent to him by a barely known second cousin, while Draco indifferently put on the new gold watch with the Draco constellation engraved on the silver dial. It had been the only package addressed to him underneath the Christmas tree. A gift from his parents. _

_He threw himself on his bed, still dressed, wearing a downcast expression on his features. Unpacking presents with the first-year had painfully reminded him of his lonely, detached position in the world in which even most of the teachers treated him with some caution. A position in which he was still searching for a way to give his life a certain direction, some meaning. _

_His thoughts involuntarily trailed toward Granger. __Fate had squeezed them together in a desk at Potions Class three times now__ and he'd been pleasantly surprised by her neutral attitude toward him, her skill, her wit. A hint of a smile ghosted over his lips when he thought back of the prank she'd played on greedy Professor Slughorn. He'd never thought she would be up to it, but she had surprised him, nonetheless. _

_As he watched the flickering green light of the oil lamps in the dormitory, he wondered for a fleeing instant how her Christmas Eve had been. He knew she would be celebrating Christmas at the Burrow, as he'd overheard the female Weasley talking about it at Transfiguration Class. Granger's parents would be there, too. Mr. Weasley would pick them up earlier that day. _

_It was quite amazing what one could find out by just minding one's own business._

_He sighed and rolled over, wishing for this dark two weeks of winter solstice to be over soon, so that he could immerse himself in school routine once more. And perhaps, in a week or two, Quidditch practice would withhold Weasley's sister from attending Potions Class once again… His expression darkened when he realised the path his thoughts had taken and he willed himself to stop it._

_At that moment, he suddenly heard it. A voice._

_It was a soft voice, unearthly, with an ethereal ring to it and it said his name. He shot up straight, pulling his wand in the process. Then his mouth fell open._

_Before him, in a sea of shimmering silver light, swam a lithe creature, looking at him expectantly. It was some sort of animal form and as he scrambled up, Draco realised that h__e was looking at a Patronus. An actual, full-bodied Patronus, waiting for him to recover from his shock. _

_After the moment recollecting his thoughts took him, he recognized the species. It was an otter._

_Draco blinked in astonishment. He had never seen a Patronus before, though he had known that the members of the Order of the Phoenix all could conjure one. Potter had even managed to master the extremely difficult and advanced spell in his third year at Hogwarts. This couldn't be Potter's Patronus, though. Tentatively, he leaned forward._

"_Yes?" His voice was a bit hoarse when he spoke as he kept his eyes trained on the appearance before him. He didn't know that Patronuses could actually speak but here this shining otter had addressed him with a tingling voice that had made shivers run down his spine._

"_I bring word from Hermione Granger," the otter then revealed his origins and Draco's breath hitched._

"_Granger?" He brought out. _

"_She wishes you a merry Christmas and hopes you had a nice Christmas Eve." _

_After the otter had finished speaking, he suddenly disappeared in a glistening mist, leaving Draco behind with a stupefied expression on his face. Slowly, Draco let himself sink back into his cushion, his thoughts a chaotic mess of amazement, fear, gratitude and strangely enough… hope. _

_And w__hen he finally picked up his book, after the Patronus was long gone, a smile subconsciously graced his lips. _

* * *

Despite the fact that he generally succeeded in keeping a low profile, Draco regularly received invitations to attend charity activities himself. He sparsely accepted them, choosing only the ones which had something to do with rebuilding the wizarding world after the war. Those were the times when he sometimes encountered Hermione Granger and her friends, the guests of honour whose presence alone lifted the prestige of the organizing committees.

Draco rarely stayed longer than absolutely necessary, politely awaiting the moment the beneficiaries had finished their word of thanks to their contributors without whose donations the new hospital wing or the rebuilt library wouldn't have been realised. The appreciation and the inevitable applause he accepted with a modest nod. He often felt the curious gazes of the other guests resting on him as he would raise his glass of wine to elegantly return the crowd's attention to the beneficiaries. He considered it progress. Curiosity was better than hostility.

There was one date on the social calendar, however, he had no opportunity of avoiding and which Draco dreaded the most. The First of December. At that day the annual ball of the Order of Merlin took place, the highly anticipated event that busied the gossip pages in the Daily Prophet for at least a week. The fame of the invitees to the ball, all bearers of the Order, attracted thousands of wizards and witches to crowd together along the red carpet to the entrance of the Diagon Alley Theatre. Often they had been waiting for hours to see a glimpse of their idols. In the pouring rain, as the weather never held on that First of December.

During the longest minute of the year, Draco had to walk down that red carpet, feeling completely out of place with his black dress robes adorned with the gleaming bronze medal of the Order of Merlin Third Class.

As he fixed his eyes on the lavishly decorated doors of the theatre, Draco always tried to ignore the countless gazes staring at him while he cursed Potter for burdening him with this. His presence here ripped open wounds that were too fresh to have even healed properly and every time he was announced and faced that red carpet before him, bordered with wild spectators, he knew that the bronze medal on his chest reminded people of who he was and what his family was accountable for. At that moment all his hard work for the family foundation was forgotten.

Declining the invitation was not an option though, especially as his parents downright refused to go, so he underwent the humiliation stoically.

The dreamy sighs he received from quite a lot of the younger witches in the crowd as he proceeded on the drenched carpet that spoiled his dress shoes, he considered mere eyewash. He knew that this bitter fortune of his presence here tonight would put him, Potter and Weasley together in a shared centrefold in Teen Witch Magazine. It was all in the game.

He was never more grateful when he'd finally reached the entrance and every year he had to resist the urge to gulp down the glass of wine being offered to him before he entered the ballroom. The rest of the evening he simply had to wait until the appropriate time had come for him to leave.

The only moment that would spark some of his interest, was when Granger arrived with Potter and the Weasleys. First Class laureates always entered the ballroom after the Third and Second Classes and within that group, Potter and the Weasleys were the last to arrive. From his place assigned to him and the other Second and Third Class laureates, Draco would watch with an impassive expression on his face as the First Class laureates entered the ballroom. Among them were many former members of Dumbledore's Army and members of the Order, but his eyes were always automatically drawn to the slender figure next to the moronic redhead Weasley as they preceeded Potter and Ginny Weasley.

Every year, she was an ethereal vision of beauty in a simple yet splendid silk ball gown, that was an ode to her gracious figure. And every year, the gold medal of the Order of Merlin First Class gleamed on her chest. Depending on the colour of her dress, precious stones were woven through her soft curls, which were put up in a delicate, intricate design.

When the Golden Trio and Ginny Weasley entered the ballroom, the other laureates would bow their heads in respect. They were royalty, kings and queens in a society which had never had such a thing.

* * *

_In the late afternoon on the day of New Year's Eve the few rays of weak sunlight that streamed into the Defence Ag__ainst the Dark Arts classroom were blocked by the door when it was being opened quietly. A hooded figure slipped inside and carefully locked the door behind him, before he determinedly walked down the aisle, like he'd done so many times during the past week. When he reached his usual spot before the blackboard, he threw back his hood and revealed white blond hair and a troubled gaze that wandered over his surroundings. For a moment, his gaze came to rest on the empty desk on the front row, until he cast a weary sigh and pulled out his wand. _

-x-x-x-

_Following the ink black disappointment he'd faced yesterday, Draco had lain awake all night, as self-doubt and frustration alternately took possession of his thoughts. Finally, he had jumped out of bed and with vehement movements put on his dressing gown, after which he quietly went to the deserted Slytherin Common Room. _

_It had been the first time since he'd left school halfway his seventh year, that Draco sat down on the black leather Chesterfield sofa and stared into the dying fire without anyone preventing it. But, it was with an empty gaze that his cool, silver eyes focused on the glowing embers. He felt exhausted. _

_Though he hadn't meant for this to happen, seeking to accomplish a full-bodied Patronus had quickly become the major purpose of his presence at school. Somehow, he felt that mastering this powerful and advanced piece of 'white magic' as Hermione once had jokingly referred to a Muggle term for it, would at least partially redeem his actions of the past. And perhaps it would soothe the feelings of guilt that gnawed at him. So, he had sunken his teeth into it, determined to succeed in the one spell which set apart the Light side from the Dark. _

_He had been wanting to succeed in mastering the Patronus spell so badly, but, as he faced his failure, Draco knew that he was only put in his place - no matter how many times he would denounce his old ways, as a former follower of the Dark Side he would never be able to conjure a full-bodied Patronus, the symbol of the good. No encouraging words from Granger could remedy that._

_Groaning softly, he rested his head in his hands. _

"_What's the matter, young man? You're disturbing me in my sleep." A reproachful voice spoke up from behind Draco and he didn't have to turn to know it was the portrait of the once famous but now long forgotten alchemist that hung on the wall next to the corridor leading to the boys' dormitories._

"_It's nothing, you can go back to sleep now," he replied dismissively while he stood up to leave. So much for fleeing to the Slytherin Common Room. _

_The grimy man on the portrait, however, narrowed his eyes. "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. No, it's not nothing, young man. I've seen you – had the pleasure of following you through the years - as I might add and this year has been most interesting."_

_Draco suppressed a sigh. "That's nice, old man. Now, if you'll excuse me..."_

"_No, I'm not finished with you, Slytherin Prefect," the old painting cried out indignantly and Draco hastily whispered, "All right, all right, I'm listening. Just don't wake up the other paintings, please."_

_Pompously, the man in the painting changed position and looked at him as piercingly as he could accomplish through the grimy, cracked paint. "You've come a long way, young man, since you first arrived in this Common Room, as small as the first-year you've helped facing both his past and his future this holiday. The spoiled little brat I first saw that night you got sorted into Slytherin has changed into a good man. The other Slytherins are doing you wrong by treating you the way they do." _

_He leaned forward, saying emphatically, "The portraits know what you're trying to accomplish, young man. And you've almost succeeded. Don't throw it away now, because of some self-doubt. You've changed more than you'll probably even realise." He paused before adding, "The Gryffindor understands this far better than you do. Now, go to bed and let me sleep."_

_He turned his back on Draco abruptly and made a exaggerated snorting sound to indicate the conversation was over. _

_For a moment, Draco didn't move, astounded by the portrait's words. The blood rushed to his cheeks when he realised that the nocturnal hours of practice in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom hadn't been as secret as he and Granger had thought it to be. _

_And what else did the portrait say...? 'You're a good man...' _

_Draco had known that Granger did have faith him, but he had attributed that feat to her proverbial, Gryffindor optimism. Perhaps... _

_He bit his lip as he let his gaze wander over the gloomy Slytherin Common Room as a new resolve appeared in his grey eyes. He shouldn't be giving up just yet. After all, the new year hadn't yet arrived._

* * *

Draco put down the quill with which he had been scribbling on the application before him and turned his head to the multi-pane window. Resting his chin in his hand, he watched as downy snowflakes passed behind the glass and piled up in crescent shaped heaps in the windowpanes.

A weak feeling of anticipation stirred in the pit of his stomach, like every time since he'd spent this last Christmas vacation at Hogwarts. It had been six year since then, but in his memory still lingered the peaceful atmosphere of the quiet corridors, the Christmas decorations in the Great Hall and the vision of gleaming curls cascading down small but strong shoulders, covered by a Gryffindor scarf. He closed his eyes and sighed inaudibly as he averted his gaze from the window and sat up straight. At least this year he wouldn't have to endure the grave silences at dinner, as he was invited to celebrate Christmas with the Greengrasses.

His eyes trailed back on the heap of unopened letters on his desk. They were all requests waiting to be evaluated. No other letters.

When he realised his train of thoughts, he resolutely stood and went over to the window briskly. Slight irritation with himself passed over his face, as he leaned his hands on the windowsill and unseeingly looked down on the snowy garden below. It had been four weeks now and though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he found himself looking forward to any information on Granger.

Draco had never been the person to worry about other people very quickly but at moments like this, when he allowed his thoughts to wander, the memory of Granger falling to the ground in the drawing room and the image of her pale, unconscious face heaved up to his as she lay limp in his arms, still pushed to the forefront of his thoughts.

He wondered how she was doing, if she was all right, but he had no illusions whatsoever on receiving any message from her, other than the evaluation he expected to arrive any moment. She didn't owe him any information on her wellbeing. After all, he was merely a former follower of the Dark Lord who was morally obliged to cater to her every whim. If she chose not to contact him, he simply had to accept and respect that decision. It was her right.

"Master Draco."

The squeaky voice harshly pulled him from his thoughts and the small house-elf blinked as the young Malfoy flinched and looked down on him with some shock in his steel grey eyes. He must have been immersed in thought considerably, if he hadn't even notice the small house-elf standing beside his desk. The little creature looked definitely agitated.

"I'm sorry to disturb the Master, but Master said I was to bring him this letter as soon as..."

"This letter?" Draco interrupted the house-elf non-understandingly and the elf nodded doubtfully as he extended a bony little hand holding a large brown envelope.

"From the Ministry...," he squeaked.

* * *

_As Draco returned to his dorm, his decision had been made and now he was standing in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom again, rolling up his sleeves before he slid into stance. He had decided not to attend dinner as he w__anted to make use of the few remaining hours of the old year, to practice as much as possible. _

_He sighed to calm himself, then he determinedly spoke the incantation. A perfect glowing orb, larger than the last time he had conjured one, appeared from his wand and he managed to keep it going for a minute before it disappeared__ in the darkness quickly descending on Hogwarts. _

_Draco frowned, then once again raised his wand._

_Time slowly passed by, accounted for by the moon rising h__igher in the stormy sky. Sometimes it disappeared behind dark clouds that became silver in the moonlight, but it always returned to stay witness of how the blond young man kept trying to conjure a Patronus. The orb only become smaller though as Draco grew more tired and more desperate. But, he didn't want to give in to his frustration. Not like this afternoon._

_Sighing wearily, he heaved his wand, probably for the last time, and with a grim and determined expression about his mouth, he summoned his memory._

_At that moment, the moon reappeared from behind the clouds and cast a silver beam of light on Granger's desk, effectively distracting Draco. _

_His eyes were drawn to the empty desk and something involuntarily fluttered in his stomach at the sight. It reminded him of all of those times when the moon had lit up Granger's glistening eyes as they attentively followed his progress. For a moment, he wished she was here with him, encouraging him with those soft, caramel eyes with which she could look at him so blissfully when he'd done something right. His expression softened slightly at the memory as he said automatically, "Expecto Patronum!"_

_He wanted to cry out in anger when he realised his mistake. He was so tired already and he had been nowhere near concentrating on his happy memory, but the effort had already been wasted. He set his jaw to contain the frustration he felt but then his eyes suddenly widened in shock._

_A sea of light had emerged from the wand and now grew brighter and brighter until half of the classroom glowed in a silver light. Draco froze, watching motionlessly as the light naturally took on the form of an animal that sprung forth and turned to look at him. His breath hitched. _

_It couldn't be... But there was no denying it. This was a whole, flawless animal form. _

_A full-fledged Patronus. _

_A smile broke through his tense, bewildered features__. He did it. He actually did it! A cry of joy escaped him, as the Patronus drew circles around him, lighting up at his master's happiness._

_Again Draco turned toward the empty desk, automatically as he wanted to share his euphoria with the one who should have been sitting over there. It was then that Draco slowly became aware of what memory had caused him to finally succeed in casting a corporal Patronus. The disturbing realisation suddenly made a fierce blush rush to his cheeks._

_He drew in a deep breath and pushed away the thought as he finally took in the Patronus he'd conjured. His Patronus. The animal was lithe, somewhat smaller than Granger's, almost as agile... It jumped around him and ran up and down Draco's body, curling around him affectionately, before he let it disappear._

_Then__, as the moon disappeared behind the clouds again, Draco threw his head back and laughed. His Patronus was a ferret._

* * *

Lucius Malfoy immediately recognized the seal of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on the parchment, when Draco entered the drawing room where his parents enjoyed their afternoon tea. His eyes widened slightly and failed to see the hurt his son expertly hid behind a stony expression as he closed the door at his leisure and lazily sat down on the sofa.

"And...?" Lucius' impatient voice reached a higher pitch, when Draco's silence became too much for him. Draco smirked when he looked up.

"As expected," he stated with slight arrogance, "the report is laudatory."

A triumphant smile spread across Lucius' aristocratic features and he rose to pour Draco a glass of Fire Whiskey. In passing he patted his son on the back. "Well done, Draco. Impeccable as usual, befitting a Malfoy."

Draco inclined his head and smiled smugly as he accepted the crystal glass, taking a large sip. "Thank you, father. And for what it's worth, the report also mentions that Malfoy Manor along with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may serve as an example for the wizarding community."

Lucius' mouth curled in a self-satisfied smile, before he took a sip from his own Fire Whiskey. "I'm proud of you, my son."

Draco grimaced at this and, unseen by his father, gulped down the remainder of his drink. He put down the glass with more force than necessary.

His mother's sharp eyes would never miss his slight slip-up though and he avoided her searching gaze as he quickly rose from his seat and excused himself. He had to get out of the house to come to terms with the grave disappointment that the evalution letter from the Ministry had contained nothing more than that. Thankfully, his mother didn't detain him.

* * *

**A/N:** _Thank you all who have reviewed the previous chapter. Your words are so complimenting, that I can only hope this chapter meets your expectations. I would especially like to thank Mermaidgirl45, Cheygrl94 and Jam for their words. Thank you also Rei Sakura, for your enthusiasm. Perhaps you're closer than you would suspect..._

_After the prologue this is the next stage in the inspection cycle, in which Draco and his family receive a laudatory evaluation, but Draco has to face grave disappointment as any message he hoped to receive from Hermione fails to appear. _

_A few __things that were mentioned in Part 1 have cleared up somewhat - the Slytherin boy and Draco's Patronus. Now we know what made him succeed so suddenly in conjuring one on New Year's Eve. Hermione._

_I actually like the scene with the Slytherin boy, as it shows Draco's isolation among his housemates as well __as his changed attitude toward someone who is in need of his help, or some attention, like the small first-year. The portrait was much fun to write ;-)._

_Thank you very much for reading!_


	7. View

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 2: Re-Inspection**

**Chapter 3: View**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, Drifting Thoughts

* * *

Draco stepped from his Nimbus 2001, ran a hand through his windblown hair and looked over his shoulder at the retreating sun. The sharp, pale light brushed the ancient conifers that grimly stood guard at the entrance of Malfoy Manor. He'd just returned from visiting Astoria and times like this he preferred the longer broomstick ride over a swift Apparition. He always enjoyed the feeling of freedom rushing through him when he was up in the air.

The visit had not been as joyful and carefree as it should have been, though. Because of the restlessness which had been plaguing him over the past week, his responses had been absentminded, his mood withdrawn. Finally, he had excused himself, reassuring Astoria that he was fine when she had glanced at him searchingly. He felt guilty as he knew that his mind was preoccupied with that other young woman who loved books. The one who haunted his thoughts from the moment he had held her unconscious body in his arms after she had collapsed in that cursed drawing room.

She hadn't tried to contact him. Neither through a note accompanying the evaluation, nor in the week following the arrival of that letter. Which could only lead to one conclusion - that the past inspection really had been the last time they had met. And that was a notion he somehow could not accept. His eyes hardened, but then he felt the pulling power coming from the gates. The Manor wanted him to enter. His mother probably wondered what took him so long.

* * *

_Draco wasn't looking forward to the graduation ceremony. Partially, because he knew the effect his family's presence had on people and partially because it would mean the end of school, of Potions Class, of Patronus lessons. But despite his reluctance, graduation day arrived inescapably and finally he found himself standing on the raised platform in the Great Hall as his eyes rose to meet the crowd of graduates and their parents. He shook the Headmistress's hand who glowed when she presented him with his diploma scroll. Due to his excellent results he had finished right behind Hermione Granger and he bit back a smile when Professor McGonagall mentioned it. Some things never changed. _

_At least his accomplishment earned him a semi-polite applause when he walked down the aisle to meet his parents who sat in the back of the Great Hall. When he passed by the large group surrounding Granger, his grey eyes fleetingly met hers before he inclined his head ever so slightly and walked on. _

'_Goodbye, Granger,' he thought silently, 'have a happy life.' _

_His parents rose to congratulate him and together they left before the ceremony ended._

-x-x-x-

_And then he was home again and followed his parents to the downstairs drawing room. His father walked briskly to the liquor cabinet to pour himself some Fire Whiskey as his mother smiled at him sadly._

_"No matter what, I'm proud of you Draco, for going back to school and pass with such good results. I hope you had a good year."_

_Draco smiled back softly and loosened his Slytherin tie, before he excused himself to change out of his school robes for the last time. But, before he could leave his father returned. _

"_I hope it was a good year indeed." His grey eyes were hard, his voice bitter. "Did you actually learn something worthwhile in there?"_

"_Lucius," Narcissa started reproachfully but Draco shook his head at her. The defiance that had appeared in his eyes he had already concealed when he looked up at his father._

"_Actually, I did, father," he replied guardedly, "I learned to cast a Patronus." _

_With these words Draco turned and walked out of the drawing room._

_The sound of a crystal whiskey glass shattering into a thousand pieces accompanied his soundless footsteps as he walked up the stairs and his lips curled in a bitter smile._

* * *

It was only after Granger's visit to Malfoy Manor that Draco realised how much he had missed the moments at Hogwarts when they quietly worked together in Potions Class or as she taught him how to conjure a Patronus. Their mutual interest in learning and their silent acceptance of each other he had come to cherish as a delicate trust developed between the former enemies. In hindsight, those were the best days of his life.

Astoria had only been partly able to fill the void graduation from Hogwarts had created in his life. He had accepted that fact, knowing that Granger would never set foot in his life again.

But there she had been, six years after graduation, driven to his doorstep because she had never come to terms with her pain and grief. And once again she had disappeared.

As he postponed the moment he had to enter the estate and face his frozen life once more, Draco's hand went to where her lips had touched his cheek. This had almost become a habit of him, when he thought of Hermione Granger, reliving what had been the softest of caresses and the most intense of memories.

But, then his brows furrowed in annoyance at his weakness and it was with brisk movements that he finally entered the estate. It was a lone, cloaked figure that walked down the driveway with his old broomstick in his hand. He needed the time it took him to get to the Manor to clear his thoughts before he could face his mother who would probably want to know if he finally had proposed to Astoria. He already felt weary as he imaged his mother's reproachful gaze at his dissatisfying answer.

It promised to be a long night.

* * *

_After he'd changed into one of his black suits, Draco had gone to the library, hoping to find some distraction from the downcast atmosphere he had now come home to. He had to acknowledge that there was no means of escaping to Hogwarts now. _

_It had been mere minutes after he'd settled himself on the sofa with a cup of tea, brought to him by one of the house-elves, within reach that the door opened and his father marched in, a grim expression on his face when he discerned his son. He approached the sofa._

"_Show me!" Lucius then snarled, looking definitely agitated as he looked down on his only son._

_Draco fought back the lazy smirk that threatened to appear. "Show you what, father?" He inquired smoothly._

_Lucius struggled to say the word. "Show me the bloody... Patronus!" He hissed finally._

_Understanding the internal conflict this had caused with his father, Draco had already expected the request. With a curt nod he stood up. "Of course, father."_

_As he blocked out his father's presence, he raised his wand to summon the already familiar memory of Granger playing with his Patronus on the night of New Year's Eve. At that moment her eyes had been shining up at him in delight. It had become his chosen memory ever since. _

_The softening of his eyes never reached his impassive features as he clearly said the incantation. In response, the ferret jumped from his wand and crosssed the library once before Draco let him disappear again._

_The silence was deafening. _

"_A weasel?" When he finally spoke the disgust in Lucius' voice was masked elegantly by the familiar mild mockery._

"_It's a ferret, father, not a weasel," Draco corrected him, rather sharply. _

_Mr. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, the disappointment evident in his gaze. He obviously had had a more heroic animal in mind for his son. "Isn't that the animal that Barty Crouch jr. turned you__ into in your fourth year?"_

_Draco flinched at the memory, but nodded slowly. "It is." _

_Draco watched as his father obviously struggled with what he'd just seen, torn between horror and pride. And pity momentarily stung his heart. A Patronus was known to repel every aspect of the Dark Arts Lucius had ever stood for and believed in. That Draco had been wanting to learn the charm, was a clear rejection of that path, of him and it shocked him to the core. However, he also realised that Draco had to move on in a world that wasn't friendly toward their former views anymore and despite himself, he was proud of his son for having succeeded in mastering such an advanced piece of magic._

_To give his father some space, Draco went to stand by the high, multi-pane window and looked out over the lush gardens. It promised to be a good year for his mother's roses._

"_So, Patronuses are on the Hogwarts teaching program now?" Lucius finally mumbled casually as he stared holes in Draco's back and the young man sighed inaudibly. All of a sudden, he felt terribly weary. But, when he responded his voice was calm. "They aren't, father. Granger taught me."_

_The sharp intake of breath he'd already expected and the stifled, "Wha…?" made him close his eyes._

_Then he turned around, a smooth smile plastered on his face. "It doesn't matter anymore, father. I've finished school and while being there I also learned to conjure a Patronus. It's time to look to the future. If you'd allow me, I can establish a Malfoy charity foundation to create a new basis for our family in the wizarding society."_

_Lucius looked at his son wide-eyed, struggle written all over his face as he let the younger Malfoy's words sink in. Patiently, Draco waited until his father nodded reluctantly and strode out of the room. His son was left standing by the window, a forlorn expression on his face._

* * *

"Master... Master Draco..."

Agony... sweat... pain... panic. Why was she looking at him that way? He couldn't help her, even if he wanted to. A cackling laugh and then... nothing...? He was shaken, like always at this point of his dream. He wanted to leave this place, knew that if he did he would be safe. So why couldn't he?

He looked around. The purple drawing room had disappeared, vanished in the licking flames surrounding him, scorching him, hunting him. But before him was not the nothing he'd expected to see. The nothing that would suck him out of this agony.

He was astounded when ancient looking columns started to grow around him, unfolding arched ceilings like flowers unfolded their delicate petals. This part of this dream was knew, but he recognized the Gothic corridor now surrounding him. Suddenly, he was wearing his school robes again. Moonlight shone through the grimy, leaded windows and when he hesitantly stepped forward, the silhouette of a Gryffindor girl appeared before him. She turned around and smiled at him. A careful smile, but glad somehow as if he had done something to please her. The feeling made him happy and he felt himself finally relax as his lips started to curl in a smile as well...

"Master Draco... Wake up!"

A violent pain exploded in his face and he bolted right up, gripping in an iron clasp the hand that hovered above him. His blood raced in his veins as he turned around with wide open eyes, his breath cut off by a feeling of fierce regret and anger at being pulled from the corridor, from her. It wasn't until a small, moaning sound reached his ears, when he started to register his surroundings.

He was sitting up straight in bed and cold sweat rolled down his bare chest as clammy sheets tangled around him from his waist to his feet. And in his hand he had trapped the bony hand of a softly moaning house-elf, which was now hanging several inches from the ground.

Realising what had transpired, Draco immediately got out of bed and put down the elf.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically. "I didn't wake up, didn't I?"

The elf had slapped him in the face, like he was told to do in such a situation.

The house-elf nodded silently, looking up at his master with big, shocked eyes. Draco sat down on the bedside and rested his head in his hands as all of the adrenaline left his body. He was soaking wet and exhausted.

"Did I wake the Mistress?" His hoarse tone was barely more than a whisper.

"No, Master," the elf squeaked reassuringly and he was answered by a deep sigh. "Good."

Draco took his wand from his bedside table and made the sweat disappear from the sheets, untangling them in the process. "Thank you for waking me up, Slumpy. You can go back to sleep now."

The elf nodded and lifted his fingers to leave the room in one sharp snap, when he seemed to hesitate and turned back to his master who now stood by the just opened window, his silk pyjama pants softly billowing in the cool wind. He knew that the young man wouldn't go back to sleep again this night.

"Master..."

"Yes Slumpy..." The Master sounded awfully tired.

"I... Slumpy must tell Master... that Master was talking in his sleep before he woke up."

For a moment there was only silence, until Draco finally spoke on a soft tone, laced with concern. "What... what did I say, Slumpy?"

"Slumpy hasn't heard Master say it before... Master said - it's an otter."

Draco's reaction wasn't as surprised as the house-elf would have expected. He merely nodded wearily as if he understood the meaning of the random words. "Thank you, Slumpy."

"Master..."

"Yes Slumpy..."

From his tone of voice the house-elf could tell this was the last time Master would grant him time to speak. "Master also said - if done correctly they can deliver messages from the caster."

Slumpy's big eyes widened when Master stiffened at his words, then suddenly spun around. The shocked expression on Master's face made the house-elf jump a bit. "What?"

With two long strides, Draco had reached the house-elf. "What did you say?" The sound of his demanding voice was as sharp as the gleam in his eyes.

But his fierce reaction was too much for the shocked house-elf. He blinked in panic.

"I... Slumpy... doesn't remember anymore, Master," he piped with difficulty and he let his ears hang miserably.

Draco calmed down somewhat at the pitiful sight.

"It was only manner of speech, Slumpy," Draco responded on a softer tone of voice, trying to reassure the house-elf. "I do remember what you said..."

He straightened up, shocked to the core by the words of his house-elf.

The creature had reminded him of a very important moment, many years ago, when he had received a message like he'd never seen before, from someone he'd never expected this from. A Christmas greeting brought to him by a Patronus, when he had spent the remainder of his Christmas Eve alone in the Slytherin dormitories. He had never actually told her, but after a very lonely evening, he had relished in the warmth of her message given him by a serene, silver otter. He had never given the event another thought, though, engulfed as he eventually had become in mastering the Patronus spell himself.

But, the house-elf's words had awoken a vague, almost forgotten memory of a particular moment, which had taken place during one of the Patronus lessons. A memory which suddenly was more important than ever. Restlessly, he looked at the bedroom door - he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

"Do you understand what you said?" Draco informed almost automatically before he would dismiss the house-elf. A last check, because his thoughts were already miles away.

Slumpy hesitantly looked up at his Master. "About the Patronus?"

He flinched when he suddenly saw Draco's piercing gaze fixed on him. His reply had snapped back Draco's attention immediately.

"Yes, about the Patronus," the young Master said emphatically, "listen, Slumpy..." He knelt down to come at eye level with the small house-elf. "It's very important that you tell nobody, not even the Mister and the Mistress, about this. Do you think you can do that?"

The house-elf nodded with big, shocked eyes.

"Good. Now return to your dorm and get some sleep before it's time to get up again."

With a pop the house-elf disappeared to the attic, but Draco didn't register the sound anymore as he threw some clothes on him and rushed for the kitchen where the brooms were being kept, a determined expression on his face.

* * *

_The first time Draco attended the ball of the Order of Merlin i__t had also been the first ball after the ending of the war and everybody present had been excited for the Golden Trio and Ginny Weasley to arrive. Draco had found himself in front of the waiting Third and Second Class laureates waiting with an impassive expression on his features until they finally entered the ballroom and he lowered his gaze, following the laureates around him. He__ had been staring at the marble floor, waiting for the moment to pass, when a nondescript feeling that had tiny sparks prickle in the back of his neck, compelled him to raise his eyes. Making sure to keep his head down, he carefully looked up and straight into the caramel eyes of Hermione Granger._

_She was staring at him with a mixture of slight melancholy and uneasiness in her eyes. Clearly, she felt unsure how to react to this token of appreciation as she held his gaze. Her look asked for some kind of reassurance, which the proudly smirking Weasley completely failed to see, Draco noticed. And without thinking, Draco slightly raised his head, then gave her an inconspicuous nod. It was an encouraging nod, to strengthen her against her discomfort._

_When the music started to play and the crowd slowly spread across the room, the corners of her mouth lifted in a barely noticeable smile. Then she turned around, the small train of her brown, silk dress gracefully following her movements as the topazes in her hair glowed softly in the candlelight. _

_The fleeting expression of gratitude on her face stayed in his memory long after he'd already left the ball. _

* * *

The hesitant morning sun set the awaking world a blood red glow as when a cloaked figure stood in a snow covered field with the standing stones of Stonehenge rising up in the distance behind him. A broomstick lay discarded next to him.

He took down his hood to reveal the concentrated expression on his pale, regular features. For a moment, he closed his eyes and as his face softened he slid into stance with an experienced movement. The following moment, the silence was broken when his voice resounded across the valley and a shimmering ferret sprung from his raised wand.

Effortlessly, the young man maintained the jumping Patronus as he allowed himself a slight smile. He hadn't seen the ferret for a long time.

Then he frowned as he tried to dig up the faded memories of the scarce words Granger had spent on explaining to him the characteristics of the messenger Patronus.

This would be the hard part.

-x-x-x-

Several days passed by as Draco practised the art of transforming his Patronus into a messenger and while doing so his spirits lifted considerably.

Ever since he'd mastered the Patronus spell, it had become somewhat of a habit to regularly cast one to keep himself in shape. But, when he had started seeing Astoria Greengrass over a year ago, this habit slowly started to subside. His happy memory increasingly started to feel like a betrayal to her who should have absorbed all of his thoughts.

When he stood in the deserted field, however, he felt a merciful peacefulness wash over him as he closed his eyes and gave in. He kept his eyes focused on the sight of the standing stones of Stonehenge bathing in the red light of the rising sun and let the image of Hermione Granger freely take over his thoughts. Then he cast his Patronus.

Almost immediately, the ferret sprung from the wand and started to draw circles around the blond man in the field, who smiled bitterly as he realised that the old memory he seemed not to get rid off when seeing Astoria, today had almost naturally been replaced by another, even happier memory. The moment in the nightly garden at the Burrow when Granger had reached up to him and softly kissed him on the cheek.

-x-x-x-

During the following days he learned how to make his Patronus convey a few small words, which gradually changed to whole sentences and at the end of the seventh day, the Patronus could retell a complete event.

As he watched the ferret talking to a bare tree, a smile broke through on Draco's otherwise impassive features. It was a smile of relief and hope. He had found a way to reach Granger.

* * *

_The last time Draco had attended the ball of the Order, his torment was softened by the presence of Astoria who shyly but proudly walked down the red carpet beside him. A classic beauty in her old rose dress, she immensely enjoyed being introduced at such an important event. Draco had even paused in his steps for a moment, to let the photographer from The Daily Planet take a picture, knowing it would please a beaming Astoria. When they had entered the ballroom, she eagerly awaited the arrival of the Golden Trio and respectfully bowed her head when they did, as had become tradition._

_After that first time, Draco hadn't looked up during that moment for the past four years, but suddenly couldn't suppress the urge to slightly lift his head and raise his eyes once more. What he saw took his breath away. _

_Granger looked absolutely stunning in her off-shoulder, Gryffindor red dress. Holding her head high, she was looking before her in a silent fashion that betrayed practice. She wore an unreadable expression on her face as she waited for the orchestra to give the cue to start the ball. It had been something she'd grown used to years ago, but something that night compelled her to slightly turn her head. Perhaps she had felt Draco's gaze on her, because when she did so, she looked him right in the eye. _

_He was shocked to see an expression of infinite sadness disclosed in the radiant witch's expression and it wasn't until then that he saw the hardened line around her lips as Weasley, who stood beside the most beautiful woman in the room, seemed indifferent to her presence. _

_At that moment, the music started to play and Draco's attention was being drawn away by Astoria, who looked at him questioningly._

_But, as he invited Astoria to dance, he wished that he was squeezed into a school desk with Granger once more and he could tell her that they had a whole double period of Potions Class ahead of them if she wanted to talk._

* * *

"Would you please Owl these letters? That will be it for today, then."

Draco leaned back in his chair, watching as the small house-elf nodded eagerly as its long fingers took a hold on the many letters meant for the many charities the Malfoy foundation now supported. Its ears flapped in the process.

Draco felt satisfied that he had been able to do all of this work despite the fact that his thoughts had constantly drifted toward other, more important subjects. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, before he bowed forward to open a drawer. He took out a familiar brown envelope and opened it. The Ministry seal was already broken. By now, he almost knew the evaluation on the inspection results by heart.

His eyes immediately went down to the last paragraph, reading what it said.

* * *

_This evaluation contains my intention to make a favourable decision concerning the discontinuation of the inspection on Elfish labour conditions in this household for at least two years. If you don't agree with the intended decision you can file in a view at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Your motivated view will be considered in the final decision concerning further inspections of the Malfoy household._

* * *

The evaluation was signed by the Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, on behalf of the Minister of Magic.

"I don't agree," Draco softly murmured to himself, before he put away the letter and went down for dinner. Tonight he would cast a Patronus.

-x-x-x-

The evening never seemed to end as Draco had to sit through a four course meal, trying to appear as normal as he could. Luckily, putting on a mask of impassiveness had become a second nature to him and he could tell his parents noticed nothing of the restlessness he felt. His father dilated on having met with the Minister of Magic today, after he'd been excluded from the Ministry for six long years. Somewhere in the back of his head, Draco registered that this was important to his father and also that it might be the result of his hard work for the foundation, but he couldn't care less right now, as he nodded and sometimes mumbled something in assent.

Finally, after two long hours, he was able to excuse himself to bed, claiming to be tired from working all day to Owl the replies to the many applications on time. His father narrowed his eyes disapprovingly as he still stuck to the opinion that Draco needed an assistant, but for a change his mother didn't seem to suspect anything as she bid him kindly goodnight.

-x-x-x-

The soft click of the bedroom door being locked was the only sound breaking the silence in Draco's elegant bedroom, when he turned around, an expression of relief momentarily passing over his face.

With a small, efficient wave the young man lit the candles as he loosened his tie with the same smooth movement, took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his light blue oxford, revealing strong arms and an expensive, gold watch with a silver dial.

The expression on his chiselled features was one of deep concentration as he stood still in the middle of the room, performed a quick spell to form a sound bubble around him, then closed his eyes before exhaling deeply.

When his eyelids shot open again, they revealed an intensely focused gaze in cool silver eyes. Draco heaved his wand and once again relived the tingling sensation of Granger's soft lips caressing his cheek, the lingering memory of a small, involuntary sigh against his skin as she pulled back. "Expecto Patronum!"

The bedroom bathed in a soft silver light, the candles turning pale at the magical glow coming from a small, lithe creature that sprung from Draco's wand. The young man slid out of position as he maintained the connection with the ferret that turned toward Draco and sat on his hind legs. He looked up at him serenely.

Watching the glowing ferret, Draco drew in a shallow breath, then meticulously started to instruct his Patronus. "This message is for Hermione Granger..."

-x-x-x-

"Draco Malfoy..."

A small, rather vulnerable sigh escaped the young man, when he subconsciously reacted to his name in his sleep. He turned his head so it came to rest against the other side of the ear chair, his body slumped down in the seat. His arm hung limp from the armrest while his hand still loosely held his wand.

After sending off his Patronus he had slowly lowered himself into the nearest chair and made the sound bubble disappear with an absent-minded flick of his wand as he stared at the large, multi-pane window through which the Patronus had jumped into the night.

His head had become strangely empty as he finally could voice the concern he felt about Granger's wellbeing. His Patronus had listened quietly until he was finished speaking.

"All right, you can go now," Draco had finally ended his words and the ferret had nodded and disappeared.

"Draco Malfoy..."

The tingling voice, however ethereal, ripped through his dreams and forced him to wake up, on another level as painful as a slap in the face from a house-elf. Draco gasped and bolted upright, eyes widened as he reflexively let go of his wand.

The dry sound of wood clashing with wood broke the night silence and for a moment Draco stiffened, waiting for his mother to come knocking on his door to see if he were all right. Nothing happened though and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Then his attention was inescapably drawn to a silvery shine that formed a scenery he hadn't seen in a long time. Before him stood an otter-shaped Patronus.

"Granger," he breathed in astonishment, the sleep forgotten as he drank in the sight of Granger's Patronus against the darkness of the room. It must still be night. His heart fluttered involuntarily when he realised that she must have sent her Patronus to answer him right away.

The otter nodded. "I come with word from Hermione Granger. She wants to thank you for your message and tell you how glad she was to see your Patronus again."

* * *

**A/N**: _Ah, the Ball of the Order of Merlin. Draco's annual agony. Thanks to Harry. I wish Draco could have danced with Hermione, but there was no opportunity. They are still worlds apart. _

_But the good news is that Draco has figured out how to transform his Patronus into a messenger Patronus, by following an almost forgotten direction from Hermione herself. And... she was glad to see his Patronus again! _

_In this chapter Stonehenge, which is located in Wiltshire, forms the background to Draco practicing to master the art of casting a messenger Patronus. I thought it made a nice picture._

_Lucius' reaction to Draco's Patronus I found very interesting to write as well. His shock illustrates the difficulties he still faces when adjusting to post-war life. And we also see that Hermione isn't the only one having nightmares of the war. Draco's suffering, too._

_I also would like to thank to all of you who have reviewed the previous chapter. _

_Thank you for reading!_


	8. Decision

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 2: Re-Inspection**

**Chapter 4: Decision**

Music: Jeremy Soule, From Past To Present (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

* * *

Long after the otter-shaped Patronus had slowly dissipated in a glittering mist, the lone figure standing in the middle of an enormous bedroom kept staring at the the spot where the glowing animal form had been. The expression in his grey eyes betrayed that the Patronus had made a deep impression on him and that he tried not to forget about what it had confided him in.

She had actually sounded relieved upon hearing from him, which meant more to him than he was ready to admit.

"I couldn't believe my eyes when this silver light filled my bedroom and a glistening ferret appeared with a message for me," the Patronus had whispered. "How on earth did you manage to have your Patronus convey messages...?"

The pride that could be heard in the soft voice of the otter had made him glow inside. It was as if he were back in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and Granger was beaming at him because of some progress he'd made with the Patronus spell.

But, then the otter had taken on a more serious tone of voice. "I feel I must apologize to you. Again. For not contacting you. Especially after all the trouble I'd already gotten you into. But I've been feeling so guilty for what had happened in the drawing room," the otter had told him in his soft, tingling voice, "that I wasn't sure if you would appreciate my sending you another message about this. After all, I had already placed an inexcusable burden on your shoulders when I demanded to see the drawing room again and then fainted. I surmised that you would not want to be reminded any further of the past. But I was mistaken. You have the right to know how I'm doing."

Involuntarily, Draco clenched his wand as he listened to the otter's words. The door, which had almost been slammed shut, had remained open on a chink yet again.

The Patronus had briefly informed him on Granger's physical condition. "After you brought me home, I slept for twenty-four hours and when I arrived back at the Ministry, everyone was led to believe I had been prey to influenza. Of course Harry wasn't to be fooled," the otter remarked. "But, my speedy recovery was enough to satisfy him."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he registered the quiet words. Perhaps it had been Potter who had advised her against contacting him. His expression hardened. The man was far too protective of the Malfoy family.

The otter concluded with a compliment on the positive inspection report Malfoy Manor had received, but since Draco hadn't sent his view to the right address and it merely required after the physical condition of one of the inspectors, he suggested that his view wouldn't be taken into account at the final decision on the frequency of the inspections. The words had drawn a small, amused smile to Draco's lips, though one subject had yet to be broached. When Draco after a moment of deliberation sent away his Patronus for the last time, the ferret carried only one question.

A question that was answered that same night, when he'd just closed his eyes to go to sleep.

"It's better now. Sleep well... Malfoy and thank you for...," the otter hesitated and began to disappear, leaving the young man surrounded by darkness once more. Its last words were a whispering echo, as if it had caught Granger saying it while it was already ready to leave. "Thank you."

* * *

The next morning Draco woke up early but well rested, having fallen asleep with the image of Granger's fading Patronus in mind.

Carefully, he turned on his back and as he looked up at the canopy above him with a calm and peaceful expression on his face, he realised he hadn't slept this well for a very long time. He felt blissfully relaxed as he let his eyes wander to the gloomy, muddy ray of light that peeked through the closed curtains. It would soon be dawn. The acknowledgment suddenly made a surge of energy course through him and as he sat up in bed, he decided for a quick flight across the estate before he would join his parents for breakfast.

He should be back when the weak winter sun had hesitantly moved past the horizon.

-x-x-x-

Perhaps his mother noticed the lighter step with which he'd entered the sun room, fresh and alert after the ice cold airborne variation on a walk at dawn and a quick shower. Her cool, blue eyes did follow her son's energetic movements as he sat down and began to serve himself. But, she refrained from commenting on anything different she might notice about him as he engaged in a serious conversation with his father on upcoming fiscal benefits for rich wizarding families who donated substantial amounts of galleons for charity. Those sums could either be deducted from taxes or from the reparation payments.

As Draco made himself a sandwich he quietly conferred with his father on which of the two possibilities would serve the Malfoys best. It wasn't until he stood up, finished his tea while he was standing and looked at her, that she asked, "Did you have a good night, dear?"

To her apparent surprise he flashed her a small smile and replied, "Yes mother, thank you."

He had left the sun room before she could call him back.

-x-x-x-

The rest of the day Draco spent behind his desk, working his way through the remaining stack of applications. He wore a concentrated expression on his face as he sometimes underlined sentences and created two smaller stacks of letters beside him - worth considering and rejected. The clock ticking was the only sound to break the silence and Draco was relieved to notice that the stacks before him grew faster than before. In his heart a new calmness had replaced the restlessness and insecurity that had put him out of balance all those weeks following the inspection. Knowing that Granger was all right and that she had even been glad to speak with him through their Patronuses made him feel lighter, as if he finally could breathe again.

A slight movement near the window made him look up attentively and his heart made a small leap. Involuntarily, he expected a lithe, silver otter to jump onto the windowsill, only to discover it was a flight of snow whirling behind the class.

He furrowed his brows as he stood up and went over to his favourite place by the window and looked down on the snow covered garden. He had awoken contently but as he stared outside, he felt a new, more gentle unrest grow inside him. Receiving Granger's messenger Patronus to answer his own, made him realise that he had found a means of communication with Granger. A way of staying in touch with her. His eyes softened at the idea of being able to continue this slow, unhurried conversation with her and once again enjoy the feelings of recognition and understanding he'd missed after they'd left Hogwarts.

He only had to come up with a another reason to approach her... Thoughtfully, Draco raised his eyes from the snowy garden to the hills surrounding the estate. Then his face brightened and subconsciously the corners of his mouth curled up as he decided to join his parents for tea.

Tonight, he would cast another Patronus.

-x-x-x-

Night had already fallen, when Draco returned to his bedroom, quietly made a sound bubble around him and cast his Patronus. His grey eyes glistened when the silver ferret appeared and went to sit on his hind legs.

Then Draco instructed him on a low voice.

"Granger... I hope I don't startle you. If so, I'm sorry. I just..."

Draco passed a hand through his hair as he was suddenly unsure of what to say next and a closed-off expression appeared on his features. This whole setting made him feel exposed, even thought the small, glowing animal before him was only his own Patronus. It felt like looking into a mirror at a vulnerable moment. A rather unnerving experience.

"Would you...," he started, searching for the right words as his Patronus patiently waited for him to continue. "I mean, I would like to ask you, if you wouldn't mind... if I was to send you a few more Patronuses... to practice?"

His voice trailed away as his words lingered in the air. The ferret took his hesitance for a conclusion and graciously jumped onto the windowsill. Draco lowered his wand and sat down on the bed, his eyes never leaving the window as he watched the Patronus leave.

The message wasn't his most eloquent ever, but then again, Draco still felt uncomfortable with asking favours from others. All he could do now was to sit and wait.

-x-x-x-

The candles in the room cast a flickering light on the dark furniture, creating mysterious shadows around the young, blond man who sat in a comfortable armchair with his forearms resting on his legs, the Hawthorn wand pointing loosely to the ground. Only his quickened breath betrayed the nervousness within him, as he kept his gaze locked on his wrist watch to see the slender gold hour hand slowly, but inescapably creeping forward. Each second passing strengthened him in his growing belief that she wouldn't respond to his message.

"Draco Malfoy?"

Draco shot up, his hearting making an involuntary jolt when he heard the familiar tingling voice. She had responded!

He didn't notice the brilliant smile that broke through his tense expression when his eyes caught the otter-shaped Patronus swimming through the air. Motionlessly, he watched the otter as the glowing animal pulled up his little snout and said, "Hermione thinks that's a very good idea and she's happy to help. Your request reminds her of the old times back in school..."

Relief filled Draco's eyes as the otter conveyed Granger's positive response. Of course, being Granger she would be wanting to help. The prospect of receiving many more messages delivered by her otter-shaped Patronus made a warm feeling spread through him.

He was pulled from his reverie, when the animal sat up and cocked its little head. "So, where to start?" It said energetically. "I always have this problem, when starting a letter, which, in essence, isn't very different from a Patronus message, don't you think?"

The corners of Draco's mouth curled up slightly and he sat back as the otter spoke. He could almost hear Granger's thoughtful voice sound through the words of the Patronus. His silver eyes glistened as he fixed them on the ethereal animal before him and drank in its words- her words as she carefully started to relate about the last book she'd read. A safe subject which he was glad to discuss as he'd also read and enjoyed this book she talked about. Among other things, he was pleased to hear she liked it, too.

* * *

During the following days they developed a slow and tranquil conversation, carried on by their respective Patronuses. They talked about their daily activities and upcoming social events they both would be attending as they were often invited to the same charity balls.

Naturally, their discussions deepened and wandered to more personal things, starting with the safe subject of their childhood years. They were surprised to discover that at one point, when they were eight or nine years old, they had spent their Christmas holiday in the same Alpine village in France. Draco and his family had been visiting friends of his parents, while Granger had spent the week skiing. At hearing her explanation of what skiing was, Draco was ready to admit that this was a far better way of spending the holidays in France than staring out a leaded window in an old castle.

The subject of work unexpectedly offered a glimpse of the things that occupied her mind, the thoughts she had about what she expected of life.

"Basically, working with the Ministry is my only option," the otter remarked as it swam before him, "because everywhere else people worship the ground that I walk on. Within the Ministry there are a lot of people affiliated with the Order and they don't put me on a pedestal... as much. I've learned to handle it, but I never will grow used to it."

Draco remembered the times at the annual ball of the Order when he had bowed his head in honour of the Golden Trio. Over the years this had become customary, but to him, it still held a special meaning. He actually felt the need to express his gratitude for their courage to stand up to defeat the darkest threat of all times. Her reservations about this token of appreciation he completely understood, though. She wasn't the type of person that would enjoy being revered.

"It sometimes does come in handy, though," the Patronus then added optimistically. "It was easier to get permission from the Minister to create the Inspection for Elfish Labour Conditions, because of who I am."

Something occurred to Draco when the Patronus mentioned the Inspection and he summoned his own Patronus.

"What do you want to do, after the Inspection has come to stand on its own feet? I can imagine that you've reached your main goal in this office after that."

His words were a silent reference to their last conversation six years ago, when they had been squeezed into a school desk together. This idealistic Gryffindor would never stop wanting to make a difference in the world from within the Ministry. As if she hadn't already done so.

He picked up his book as he waited for her answer. It was a habit he had developed during the many evenings they now talked to each other through their Patronuses. Neither one of them had mentioned that Draco had become really good at sending messenger Patronuses and no longer needed any practice. Instead, the deeper the conversations became, the longer they became.

For Draco, the quiet conversations with Granger had become the highlight of his day. The whole day long he was looking forward to that moment he closed the bedroom door and created a sound bubble before they would continue their conversation where they had left off the evening before. He liked to think she enjoyed the conversations as much as he did.

When a silver light filled his bedroom, he looked up from his book and sat up somewhat. The otter started to speak.

"You've seen it well. The Minister has asked me to start working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, when my work with the Inspection is done. I'm thinking of accepting his offer."

Draco sensed the hesitance in her words and he conjured his Patronus. "What's holding you back?"

If a Patronus could sigh it would be the soft, melodious sound the otter made when it appeared before the young Malfoy. "I don't know. I guess I find it difficult to leave the Inspectorate behind. It feels like a betrayal, although they have already proven they can handle the task perfectly."

When the Patronus disappeared, Draco waved his wand once more. "You will make the right decision. A little word of advice - don't be afraid to close a chapter when it's ready to be closed. Otherwise, you'll inevitably become embittered by the very thing you'll be wanting to remember fondly."

He had been telling this to himself when he had started adjusting to his life after Hogwarts, but he'd always known that to him it had been a decoy, a way of trying to forget about the emptiness inside. He had been far from ready to be closing the chapter that was Hogwarts. Instead, he'd felt a longing for it to be reopened ever since he'd been staring into those caramel eyes after they'd fluttered open after two hours of unconsciousness in a guest room somewhere in the Manor. And he couldn't deny the excitement he now felt at upholding this magically supported conversation.

This time, he had to wait longer for her Patronus to appear and when it spoke, its words sounded thoughtful. "I haven't yet thought about it this way, but I see you're right... I guess you speak from your own experience."

There was a slight trace of melancholy in her words, but he knew that she would follow his advice and continue to make a difference for the wizarding society in her new position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

He was pulled from his thoughts, when the otter changed the subject. Granger appeared to be curious about his work for the foundation. She wanted to know how he chose the charities to support from the pile of applications that arrived daily at Malfoy Manor and what kind of requests he received.

Leaning back in his chair, Draco crossed his legs and told his Patronus about his work for the foundation, answering all of her questions. To amuse her, he also included a dry recount of some of the strangest applications he'd ever seen.

When the otter returned with her reply, he could almost hear her laughter as it said, "But you didn't tell me if you granted those requests."

A smile unwittingly appeared on his face when he summoned his ferret and asked, "Would you have done it?"

Though his question was primarily a joke, he noticed that he actually felt curious about her opinion. When it came her joking answer was more serious than he'd expected. There was a serious undertone that expressed her heartfelt grief at what she'd lost in the war. "To promote peace, I would support any initiative - even the Witches' Institute organizing a world record of house witches singing Celine Malvaria songs..."

Her reply made him lower his gaze, but then, the otter went to stand on his hind legs and looked up at him attentively.

"There's one thing more, Draco Malfoy," it said. "Tomorrow, the results of the first inspection by the Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions are being published in The Daily Prophet. The paper has been very eager for them being disclosed. Expect the press hounds to arrive at the Manor very soon."

He didn't know why the remark made shiver run down his spine, but as the otter disappeared he forgot about the foreboding feeling and stood up to close the curtains for the night.

* * *

"You look rather cheerful today."

Draco looked up attentively, the observation surprising him as it wasn't often that someone qualified him as being cheerful, but judging by Theodore Nott's indulgent smirk, his old friend was serious about it. A small grin mirroring Theodore's played around Draco's lips as he leaned back in the creaking, old chair and took a sip from his wine. "It's almost Christmas, Theodore. Aren't you supposed to be cheerful these days?"

The Leaky Cauldron was filled with witches and wizards taking a pause from their Christmas shopping and even through the noise inside, he could hear the carol singers walking past the old pub. The pub itself was decorated in an uninspired way with dusty old garlands haphazardly hanging from the decayed balconies. Nevertheless, Tom the bartender seemed very happy with the result of his creative outburst - every once in a while he looked up at the balcony with a satisfied, crooked grin on his face.

Draco and Theodore Nott sat a small table in the corner of the cafe, a favourite spot of them when they visited The Leaky Cauldron. Theodore was still wearing his work robes, adorned with the familiar Ministry scarf, as he'd come straight from his work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was a tall man whose build had lost its stringiness over the years and despite his still weak chin, his eyes shone cleverly as studied Draco thoughtfully.

Unlike the Malfoy family, the Notts had been financially sorely tried after the fall of the Dark Lord and Theodore, who had been shaped for a life of freedom from care had to start work for a living. He hadn't been daunted by it, though, as he was very happy working as a liaison officer for the Ministry.

"Astoria has invited you to Christmas dinner, hasn't she?" Theodore was a perceptive young man and he smirked at his friend. "No wonder you're smiling all the time."

"Don't waffle, Theodore," Draco responded, though he couldn't help the grin from breaking through his normally so impassive features. "But, you're right, of course."

The prospect in fact left him cold, but it was better not to delve into details. Not now. He knew that Theodore would understand - the classmate from Hogwarts Draco had actually considered an equal and sometimes somewhat cleverer. They had become close friends when Theodore, unlike so many former Slytherins, didn't turn his back on Draco after the ending of the war, but instead had made a similar choice - to not let himself be fooled this badly ever again. Kindred spirits.

Draco took a sideward glance at the civil servant beside him. "And what about you?"

Theodore shrugged. "Oh, the usual. Fancy dinner here, Christmas dance there. I'll be glad to actually be at home with Christmas itself."

Which was his small flat in a narrow street off Diagon Alley. His father, the older wizard who was his only relative left, still had some time in Azkaban to spend.

Draco knew what he meant. Christmas time always was the busiest time of the year for the liaison officers. "Any interesting receptions this year?"

"That depends on the food being served. I've got Togo and China this year." Theodore smirked and took a sip from his wine. "So...," he added casually. "Did you already hear from the Inspection for Elfish Labour Conditions? I hear the inspection report on Malfoy Manor is quite good."

Draco let out an amused laugh. His friend had a knack for knowing what was supposed to remain a secret.

"Which you shouldn't have known at all, no less confront one of the subjects of inspection, with it," he countered. "Do you need me to remind you of your oath of office?"

"No need. Sound bubbles can do wonders." Theodore shrugged, before taking another sip of his wine and Draco grimaced. He'd already thought he'd felt a strange sensation suddenly cloaking him, some while ago. Theodore never cared enough to let his companions know he'd placed them under a spell.

"So, are you satisfied with the results?" Theodore asked, naturally ignoring Draco's displeasure.

The first time Draco had seen Theodore after the inspection, he didn't even need to tell his friend about what had happened, as Theodore, of course had already heard about Granger having fallen ill after a visit to Malfoy Manor. But, being Theodore, he wasn't inclined to believe the official version the inspectors had put forward.

Carefully and without revealing too many details, Draco had outlined what really had happened to the supervising inspector, knowing that he could trust Theodore.

Though the former Slytherin had understood the gravity of the situaion he had also been slightly amused by it and he had advised Draco to request for physically stronger inspectors, the next time the Inspection was to visit the Manor.

"I am satisfied with the results. They are very good, indeed," Draco now admitted in answer to Theodore's question. "It's a good thing for the family name to be associated with something positive. And house-elf welfare has become an important issue because of Granger's efforts," he observed plainly.

"Don't you actually mind all the extra work because of this new Inspection, do you?" Theodore looked at him searchingly and Draco shook his head.

"It has been rather interesting, in fact," he observed. "Though the elves have given me a hard time as they didn't like all these changes, it's quite fascinating to see them eventually become more satisfied or less tense, because of it."

"You've taken this far too seriously, Draco." Theodore shook his head. "You've become soft."

"No, I'm just noticing the differences," Draco repudiated. "Which are considerably enhancing the atmosphere in the Manor."

This remark made Theodore swallow the snide response, as he himself had experienced the blanket of dejectedness that covered Malfoy Manor.

For a moment both men remained silent until Theodore said casually, while studying his glass, "Do you know who looks particularly cheerful at the moment too?"

"Haven't got the faintest. Do enlighten me, please," Draco responded dryly before ordering two more wines. When his gaze returned to Theodore, he noticed the scrawny and possibly thirsty wizard trying to get an enormous Christmas tree through the door, much to the dismay of an agitated Tom. The corners of Draco's mouth curled up and he stretched his legs, before taking a sip from his refilled glass.

"Hermione Granger."

Theodore's sharp gaze closely followed Draco in an attempt to gauge his reaction while the young Malfoy put down his glass with a deliberate movement. But, as Theodore had already expected, Draco's face remained unreadable and he turned to look at Theodore with a particularly non-understanding expression in his eyes. "I fail to see why I would be wanting to know about that?"

Theodore shrugged, a vague smile playing around his thin lips. "I thought you would be interested."

For a moment, Draco raised his eyebrow in amazement, apparently convinced that Theodore must have lost his mind. But then, his lips curled up in a smile of mock indulgence. He decided to play along and said, "What gave me away?"

Theodore smirked at his friend's jest and as they burst out in laughter, Draco suppressed a relieved sigh before he downed the remainder of his wine. At that moment, Theodore nodded at a point before him and said dryly, "The way you're looking at that picture of her on the opposite wall."

Draco's eyes widened as he suddenly choked in his wine and only with the utmost act of self-control he kept himself from spitting out the slightly burning liquid. His normally pale cheeks took on a feverish colour.

Theodore's smug grin widened as he silently handed Draco a handkerchief. "You're welcome," he replied in advance. Then he scrutinized his friend as Draco regained his composure. "Care to tell me about it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco replied stiffly, though a bit hoarsely and Theodore allowed himself a small smirk before he shook his head and put down on his own glass. "Pity. I was really interested to know how that poor little inspector has gotten home after she fainted in your house. You conveniently left out that part of the story, but I'm suspecting that your chivalrous character has something to with it..."

When Draco only fixed him with a hard stare he shrugged, a half smile on his face. "Very well. Whatever suits you. When you feel ready to tell me, you know where to find me. Though, I must say my curiosity has risen to new and very high levels now."

A parrying expression appeared on Draco's features. "I don't..." he started to repeat himself, trying to forget about the fact that once or twice his gaze indeed had been drawn to the young woman on the picture flanking The-Boy-Who-Lived, but Theodore cut him off.

"Yes, yes, I know... But sadly it's time to go, or Tracey will kill me. So, the inquiry will have to wait until... Thursday."

Draco allowed himself a wry smile as he and Theodore said good-bye. The civil servant grinned and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck.

"Don't forget to bring that 200 year old Fire Whiskey you bragged about. See you then."

* * *

Draco remembered his conversation with Theodore that evening when he saw his Patronus hop out of the window, in search of Hermione Granger. His friend may be very observant and Draco had to keep that mind, but even Theodore couldn't fathom that he and Granger were upholding a constantly deepening conversation through this highly unusual means of communication. A conversation that had reached the level where to had come to discuss their expectations of life, their hopes and dreams for the future.

At one point, her Patronus hinted that Granger sometimes seemed to feel as lonely as Draco did and his thoughts involuntarily went back to the opening ceremony at the ball of the Order of Merlin when she'd looked at him with such a sad gaze in her eyes. Back then, he had wished for an opportunity to speak with her, an opportunity he would never have thought that was now presented to him by this new situation in which they conversed with each other through messenger Patronuses.

After only a moment of hesitation he summoned his Patronus and instructed the ferret with just one remark. "Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

Her Patronus admitted, "I know." Then it blinked and from experience Draco knew this meant that Granger had looked away to get things straight. But, then the Patronus disappeared without adding anything more to the soft acknowledgement.

Immediately, he summoned his Patronus. "It doesn't matter. I'm here if you'd want to say more on the subject. In the mean time... Do you also intend to go to the Christmas ball of the Wizard's Service Organization?"

And confirming reply alone made him go to bed a happy man.

* * *

The following evening a question popped into Draco's mind as he was about to send away his Patronus to answer a question.

"What Patronus does Potter have?"

On impulse he added the question and the ferret jumped away, before he could rethink his words. He had probably subconsciously been wondering about this, he tried to explain his own surprise as he watched the ferret go.

After countless moments, in which Draco started to wonder if she was going to answer him at all tonight, her otter swam toward him. Perhaps, the question had surprised her, too.

"A stag," its melodious voice answered.

Draco considered this. A proud animal, very appropriate for the heroic Gryffindor. A bitter smile for a moment tugged at his lips, when he summoned his own Patronus and the ferret appeared. But, as the small animal looked at him expectantly, he remembered what Granger had said to him six years ago in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. 'The ferret is related to the otter.'

The sting of jealousy he'd felt immediately disappeared. Somehow, it felt right that his Patronus resembled Granger's.

"And the Weasel?"

The otter returned soon with her reply. "It's Ron Weasley, Malfoy and his Patronus is a Jack Russell terrier."

Draco nodded, ignoring the reprimand. Stubborn, loyal and overly impulsive. Sounded like the Weasel to him.

He hesitated, reluctant to let go of the subject, to let go of _her_ for tonight, though it was almost time for bed. He summoned his Patronus one last time as he searched his memory for people he expected to possess a slightly interesting Patronus, but most of all - would tempt her to keep on talking.

He furrowed his brows and suddenly stilled when the name of a person occurred to him. He cast his Patronus, but suddenly hesitated before instructing the small animal. His question therefore sounded strangely subdued.

"What about… Snape?"

Perhaps, it had only been his imagination, but it seemed like the otter arrived later then before with the answer. "It was a doe."

Draco blinked in surprise, before sending away another Patronus. "A doe? That doesn't sound much like Snape."

He didn't know what he'd expected, but not a deer. The notion actually intrigued him and he forgot about his initial objective to keep Granger with him some while longer as he started to wonder about the circumstances.

But, the answer remained as mysterious as it was sad. "He loved her very much."

"Who?" At this point, his confusion was complete as he raised his eyebrows at her cryptic words.

"Lily Evans Potter. Harry's mother. Her Patronus was a doe."

Potter's mother? Professor Snape, Severus Snape had loved Potter's mother? But how... Draco sat up in his chair, his pulse quickening as he raked his hand through his hair. He had the feeling that he had touched upon something very important. Something he had never understood before, though he felt he had always wished to.

He started to conjure another Patronus to ask Granger about the specifics, when another otter already appeared before him.

"It's really a sad story," the animal softly explained. "They knew each other from before their time at Hogwarts. It was Professor Snape who introduced Lily, who was a Muggle born like me, to the magical world and explained to her why she could do such strange things. They were the best of friends even after Snape was sorted into Slytherin and Lily into Gryffindor."

The otter paused for a moment and Granger's words hung in the air. Draco's eyes had widened at what she'd told, but the Patronus wasn't yet finished. "That was," the animal continued, "until Snape got obsessed with the Dark Arts and destroyed their friendship and whatever possible future they might have had together. He turned her down and called her a Mudblood, even when she tried to protect him from Harry's father and Sirius who bullied him."

Her quiet words had his head spinning. Suddenly, many things about Potter became clear to him, such as Snape's fierce hatred toward the boy, which had always come in quite handy, but Draco never really had understood. Until now.

He sent off his Patronus for the last time to bid Granger good night and went to stand by the window. Only a few words Granger had used to point out to him that many escalations during the war had actually result from strings that had been woven long before the beginning of that very war. And he realised how little he still knew about these connections as both his parents and the Dark Lord had left the teenage boy in the dark about those things at the time. But, perhaps Granger would be willing to tell him, like she did tonight.

As he leaned against the window frame, he also couldn't help but notice a certain backwards similarity between him and the young Snape. Hadn't Granger's words sounded a bit melancholy when she told him the story of their estrangement?

The observation had his heart skip a beat and when Draco closed the curtains he remembered that history often repeated itself, but never quite the same.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy. Very pleased to find you at home. I want to congratulate you on Malfoy Manor's laudatory results with the house-elves inspection which has been published in today's newspaper. Can I ask you a few questions about that?"

Draco grimaced when he heard the eager voice magically sound through the hallway and secretly thanked Granger for warning him beforehand.

Half an hour later he watched the journalist leave. The man had been overwhelmed by the splendour of Malfoy Manor and had to recover for a while before he sat down in one of the elegant armchairs in Draco's study and conjured his questions from his titbit worn robes. Draco had surveyed it resignedly, but when the man began going through his questions he answered them politely.

What his reaction had been when he heard he'd come out on top of the Ministry's list.

"I wasn't aware of this being a competition," Draco mildly reprimanded him, before underlining that he recognized the importance of the working conditions of house-elves being improved.

The journalist bowed his head under Draco's cool, grey gaze, then went on with his questions. How the house-elves were doing – good -, how they liked the new Ministry's nosiness on their behalf – you should ask them –, then the journalist asked, "This is a level of meddling with your affairs by the Ministry like you've probably not experienced before. What's your opinion on that?"

For a moment, Draco watched him silently, probing the scrawny man's intentions. It was clear that between the lines he was asking for a Pureblood sneer at the Ministry and the young Malfoy didn't like it. Did this press hound really think that this transparent question would make him put the fragile reputation of his family on the line? With a barely noticeable narrowing of his eyes he responded. A politically correct, noncommittal response.

After another three attempts at eliciting an interesting answer from the Malfoy heir, the journalist finally gave up and thanked him for the interview. He let his notes, taken with a normally hexed quill, disappear and stood up.

Soundlessly, Draco followed his example, glad that it was over. His thoughts drifted to Granger and though it had yet to become eveing, he suddenly longed to discuss the journalist's visit to the Manor with her. He couldn't wait to see her Patronus and find out her opinion on the matter.

When the journalist turned around on his way out though Draco looked up in slight annoyance. "Oh, there's one more thing, Mr. Malfoy. This whole action is an initiative of Hermione Granger, who's famous for her strive for equal rights for Magical Creatures. She's one of your former classmates at Hogwarts, isn't she?"

'She's famous for a lot more than just that, you insolent little...' Draco thought as he looked down on the man with disgust. But there was no point denying the obvious, except...

"I don't see where this is relevant." Draco's cold voice turned frosted at the journalist's question. But, the journalist saw his chance.

"Other families tell that she has been part of the inspection team." He squinted his little eyes, looking up at the young Malfoy to see his reaction. "Did she step by at Malfoy Manor as well?"

"Hermione Granger was part of the inspection team," Draco confirmed formally, "but as I said, I don't see where this is relevant to the subject at hand."

The journalist was too engulfed by his questions that he failed to watch Draco's impassive features closely enough to notice the pulsing little vein near Draco's temple nor that his steel grey eyes flashed with anger.

He smiled. "But, isn't it the first time you've crossed each other after you both repeated your seventh year at Hogwarts, a year in which you hung around quite a lot with each other? Even while you were the admitted opponent of Harry Potter during the war... Isn't it so that she and Harry Potter were held hostage in this house by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Was it because of that that she came back?"

As the journalist continued firing questions at him, Draco had paled and his nostrils flared in suppressed anger at the unexpected, intimate questions. This man was a first class muckraking journalist and he was asking about things that went far deeper than he could even begin to fathom. Draco didn't know where his information came from, but he did know that he had to get rid of him as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry," he had finally succeeded in saying, his voice as dismissively and authoritatively as possible. "I think I've answered all of your questions on the inspection to your satisfaction. I can confirm that Hermione Granger was part of the inspection team and I suggest we leave it at that."

Now Draco stood at the window and with a deep frown looked down on the man walking toward the gate. Then he turned around and determinedly spoke the incantation.

"Expecto Patronum."

* * *

"Draco Malfoy."

With a start Draco shot up straight in his chair and his head jerked toward the tingling voice that softly broke the silence. Next to his chair floated a silver otter, looking at him serenely as it waited for him to recover.

"Hermione," he gasped and shook his head to clear it from sleep. He must have fallen asleep, while waiting for Granger's reply.

"Hermione is sorry for the late reply to your message. She summoned her Patronus as soon as she got home from work. She hopes that you can forgive her for waking you up."

The animal cocked its little head and watched Draco expectantly, who stretched himself out to get rid of the stiffness. He raked his hand through his hair.

"Of course," the young man mumbled a little curtly, but his cool eyes shone with anticipation.

"Hermione wishes to thank you for the message. She says that it's clear that some things will never change for the better, like The Daily Prophet."

Draco's lips curled in a smile, but the otter bowed its little head. "Hermione isn't surprised about the questions asked, though. Her private life has been subject to speculations for a while now."

Even through the otter's ethereal voice, Draco could hear the sadness of her words. He knew what she was talking about. Lately, The Daily Prophet had run quite a lot of features on the possible break up between her and the Weasel. It hadn't surprised, though. From what little information the otter had given him on their relationship, he had gathered that they were beginning to pay for their differences in intellectual interests.

The otter raised its head and seemed to look him in the eye. "In the end, it seems that we're trying to meet what life expects of us, rather than fulfil our own expectations of life."

It sounded very lonely and Draco's gaze darkened. He had resigned to this realisation a long time ago, while working his hopes and dreams around it. Only during his repeated year at Hogwarts he'd felt as if both the expectations of the world and his own had become more in sync with one another.

"Tell me," the otter whispered. "Why do I seek support from someone who's not my friend in any sense of the word, rather than from the one who has known me for years?"

Draco bowed his head at hearing the forlorn words, but at remembering her joyful messages, he knew she didn't regret the time they'd spent conversing through their messenger Patronuses.

The otter's voice softened to a gentle, tingling sound. "Sleep well, Draco Malfoy. Hermione is sorry to have bothered you with this question." The next moment the otter had disappeared.

Motionlessly, Draco watched the spot where only seconds ago a beautiful Patronus had floated in the air. Then he picked up his wand from the floor and spoke the incantation.

The ferret went to sit on his hind legs as Draco massaged his temples.

"Tell her... It's because I understand."

* * *

Earlier than normal Draco hastened down the stairs, hoping to intercept today's newspaper before one of his parents. The house-elves looked up in surprise when young Master Draco appeared in the kitchen and with a short 'good morning' took the ironed The Daily Prophet from the silver platter it was placed on for delivery.

The expression on the young man's face was tense when he quickly opened the newspaper and spread it out on the kitchen table. With his palms resting on the low surface he let his steel grey eyes flash along the columns.

Then he froze. Only a strand of silvery, blond hair falling over his forehead betrayed the tiniest of movements toward the text on the third page. There it was. The article on the Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions.

An old picture of Malfoy Manor crowned the headline - Results First House-Elves Labour Inspection Made Public. A smaller headline underneath it stated - Excellent Evaluations On Hogwarts And Malfoy Manor. So far so good, Draco thought as his wary eye rested on the inset that contained a Ministry picture of Hermione and a short history on the new Inspection.

Quick as lightening his eyes then scanned the text and stopped when the journalist introduced the young Mr. Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy fortunes and known philanthropist. What followed was a surprisingly faithful account of the answers he'd given the journalist.

Slowly, Draco straightened up and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, when he felt a small tug on his sleeve. He looked down and spotted the house-elf.

"Young Master Draco, sir. Slumpy has ironed the newspaper for the Mister and Mistress," the house-elf piped. "And Slumpy saw that things are written about Master Draco in the newspaper today."

"You're right, Slumpy, but it's only the interview I gave the other day," Draco responded favourably and he got ready to close The Daily Prophet, when a leathery hand was put on the paper.

"Not in the home news section, Master Draco," it said with more emphasis, his large eyes looking at him pleadingly. "But in the gossip section."

The swearword escaping Draco's lips made the house-elf bow its head in regret, until the young man hastened to assure him that he didn't blame the small creature as he hastily opened the gossip pages.

Then his gaze darkened. In the middle of a loud collection of articles on showbiz wizards and witches, an article on him and Hermione had been published. A group photograph of a ball they had both attended some two years ago, accompanied an article that was introduced by an ominous, underlined headline in chocolate letters - Could It Be Possible...?

What followed was a long piece on their troubled past and their repeated seventh year at Hogwarts. The journalist had dug up some former students of Hogwarts who had been willing to state that the both of them had seemed rather close during this year, which couldn't even have been possible since the only times the other students had seen them together had been those few times in Potions Class, when Ginny Weasley had been unable to attend.

With a scowl Draco looked at his own picture in dress robes as he stared into the lens seriously, before he looked down on the radiant witch in a beautiful, dark blue dress standing a row below him. Though his gaze had been indifferent enough, Draco imagined that the wish to talk to her he'd felt at the time actually dripped from his features. His gaze came to rest upon the closing sentence of the wretched article - Have Miss Granger's Good Intentions For The Improvement Of The Labour Conditions Of House-Elves Turned Into A Means Of Getting Back In Touch With Her High School Sweetheart?

Draco groaned as he closed the newspaper in disgust. This was bad. He couldn't care less about what people might think after reading this article, but it was Granger's reaction he feared the most. Would she cut off the hesitantly renewed contact? He wasn't sure if he could handle it if that would happen. Not again. He had left school in acceptance of the knowledge that their hesitant bond had only been temporary, but the moment she'd been back on his doorstep and had asked for his help, he'd realised how much he'd missed her company.

"Master Draco." The croaking sound of the house-elf's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "A letter has arrived."

He looked up to see the owl jumping from the windowsill. "It's from Miss Astoria."

* * *

Disappointment washed in paralyzing waves over the young Malfoy as Draco listened to the words Granger's Patronus spoke as it swam before him. It had arrived only two hours after Astoria's letter, carrying with him the message the young Malfoy had feared the most.

He clenched his fists as the softly spoken, but oh so cruel words sank in. Of course he had expected as much. It was only natural. The accusing gaze of the entire world had come to rest upon the young witch, Harry Potter's friend who seemed to be cheating on her boyfriend, with no one less than their former enemy. Therefore, it was utterly understandable. She had some serious damage control to do. Protect the vulnerable, new Inspectorate she had created, restore the trust of the world in the brains of the magical Golden Trio, save her relationship with the moronic redhead. It couldn't be more clear. But, for one irrational moment he had hoped that she wouldn't give up on him, not care about what impression that press hound had given of them in his poisonous article.

"Hermione is very sorry about this, but she sees no other way," the Patronus said regretfully. "Patronuses can be intercepted and it's too much of a risk to stay in contact as at the moment every step she takes is followed. Please do know that it hurts her deeply to do this and that she will miss to see the silver ferret appearing before her, more than you'll know."

Then the otter disappeared and Draco's face contorted in a mixture of white anger and grief. Blindly, he grabbed a precious vase within his reach and with a silent cry threw it into the wall.

The sound of porcelain breaking into thousands of pieces was heard throughout the entire Manor.

* * *

The hazy days following the publication of the article in The Daily Prophet turned into weeks as Draco had to keep other journalists at a distance, appease a furious Astoria and stoically continued with his duties for the foundation. Meanwhile, new publications fueled the speculations on the assumed relationship between him and Granger and each and every article was accompanied by silent, but very reproachful glances from his mother. The worst thing was that he had to undergo it, while he there was no way to contact Granger anymore.

At night, he often couldn't sleep and sometimes conjured a Patronus just to talk to. He kept the shimmering ferret around until he grew tired from performing the advanced magic and imagined sending the Patronus off to Granger, instead of simply letting it disappear. Pathetic, but it helped him get some semblance of a night's rest.

And while it hurt him that Granger seemed to have given up on him so easily, he suspected that things would be twice as hard for her. He had the luxury of awaiting the end of the storm in his secluded house in the countryside, his reputation having been already damaged as it was, whereas for Granger there was no hiding from the attention or the judgment. He wished he could contact her to support her, but he knew that would only make things worse.

So, he stuck to his daily routine and tried not to think of her. Which in essence was an impossible task, since almost every day, The Daily Prophet published something on their suspected relationship. Each day following the next one, Draco came across old pictures where the two of them coincidentally had been photographed together, most of the time while they were present at some social event with a larger group of people.

They even managed to dig up pictures from their school days at Hogwarts he didn't even know existed. Like that very old picture of the Yule Ball in their fourth year when Hermione Granger even had Draco Malfoy looking at her wistfully as they, because of an unfortunate combination of events, encountered each other in that blasted choral dance. When his eye fell on it, the image actually touched a melancholy chord. They were still so young, Draco mused as his eyes focused on the moment her hand left his to move up to her next dance partner. And so stupid.

A more unpleasant surprise though were the unknown pictures taken during their repeated year at Hogwarts. Of course, during those days he had never taken into account Dennis Creevey, the younger brother of that small Gryffindor who had died in the war.

The boy had still been in school when both he and Granger had returned to Hogwarts to complete their education and the small brother of the photographer had stayed behind at school during the holidays, too. And apparently having developed a new hobby. The scrawny Gryffindor had secretly taken a picture of them, when they had been on their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom for Patronus lessons. He must have been following Granger, whom his brother had adored.

When he opened the newspaper on the kitchen table, Draco's breath caught for a second. The picture depicted them standing next to each other in one of the corridors close to the Ravenclaw Tower. Moonlight, filtered by ancient dust, shone from the elegant, Gothic window and set them in a mysterious silver glow that highlighted Granger's gleaming curls and Draco's chiseled features. On the picture, they were standing rather close to each other and Granger' s face was turned somewhat to him, her eyes resting on the Slytherin badge on his school robes. Her expression was unreadable, but for a barely noticeable peacefulness and Draco was looking at her with an expression matching hers.

It was an almost ethereal picture as they stood there in that deserted corridor - a Slytherin and a Gryffindor seeking each other out on neutral grounds. When their figures would take a step forward, their gazes would meet.

Above the magical picture The Daily Prophet had written - Is This Why Hermione Granger Picks Draco Malfoy Over Ronald Weasley?

On the second page of the gossip section, there was another picture from Dennis Creevey of them sitting beside each other in Potions Class as they studied the exercise book. Draco actually knew this one - the picture had been taken for the school paper, but now had become emotionally charged. Beside the moving photograph was an article announcing Weasley and Granger's break-up.

When Draco's gaze came across those crucial lines he closed his eyes as he clenched the tabletop until his knuckles turned white. At this moment he fought to resist the urge to conjure his Patronus and find out how she was doing. The last thing she needed was more trouble on her hands, but Merlin, he wanted so bad to seek her out and comfort her somehow. Even apologize, for unwillingly remaining under the lee of her protecting shadow.

"Master Draco, sir," the house-elf piped up hesitantly, nervously wringing his hands to the penetrating sound of a bell. "Mr. Malfoy's asking for the newspaper, sir."

-x-x-x-

The looks his father and mother gave him over breakfast upon seeing the pictures Draco endured with feigned indifference, but when his father let one of the house-elves discard the newspaper in the litter bin, he took his wand and cut both pictures from the newspaper.

The days following the publication of the school pictures the newspaper became overflowed with letters to the editor from witches who mostly argued about whether Granger should either choose him or Ronald Weasley. The letters turned his stomach.

Then, after weeks of speculation, but finding nothing worthwhile to base their theories upon, the press finally grew tired of the possible relationship between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger and their attention shifted toward the pregnant lead singer of the Wicked Witches who had betrayed her husband with some professional Quidditch player. The storm was over.

* * *

Five weeks had passed since the inspectors had visited Malfoy Manor, bringing Hermione Granger back into Draco's life and as the media storm was dropping, the winds of the weather grew tired too. A freezing cold passed over the glistening white world they had left behind.

It was one week until Christmas.

A few days earlier, the Malfoy family had received a final decision the discontinuation of further inspections for at least two years.

When Draco read the letter his eyes wandered unseeingly over the two pages long letter confirming in dry officialese what he'd already known - she really wasn't coming back again.

Involuntarily, his body started to tremble as he realised that this was definitive. Until now he still had had nurtured a shard of hope, which was now effectively silenced. He bowed his head and a small, pained groan escaped him as he had to face the agonizing truth.

Coming from what seemed to be another world outside his pain a soft pop cut through the ringing in his ears. But, when he registered the sound and looked up, he thought he heard another pop and realised that he was still alone in his study like he had been for the past hour.

The sound, though imaginary or not, had snapped him from his agony.

He returned his tormented gaze at the letter on his desk and raked a hand through his hair as an expression of disgust replaced the pain written on his features. "Enough."

His own voice sounded strange to him, not entirely his as he spoke, but his decision was formed. With deliberate movements he folded the letter and laid it on the silver platter for the house-elves to put in the archive. Then he stood up, his face a mask of calm impassiveness. Enough was enough.

* * *

**A/N:** _I would to thank __Flamelm for your complimenting words on the feel of the story. __To Sushiking I would like to say that __I don't really know if the Death Eaters didn't know about the messenger part of the Patronus spell, but since it's something Dumbledore invented to be used for communications within the Order of the Phoenix it is a possibility that the Death Eaters didn't know about it. In the previous chapter Draco insisted on keeping it a secret, not because he doesn't trust his parents, but because he knows that they don't understand the way he sees life now and I guess because he feels the need to keep this to himself._

_Poor Draco and Hermione.__ They are not yet allowed their happiness. And it seems that Draco has turned himself away from Hermione for good._

_Thanks for reading!_


	9. Surprise inspection

**The Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions**

**Part 2: Re-Inspection**

**Chapter 5: ****Surprise Inspection**

Music: Bruce Broughton, Bellevue Carol (Miracle On 34th Street)

* * *

"I am going to propose to Astoria. It's something I have postponed for far too long now." Only a slight drawl broke through the young man's even voice and Theodore Nott looked at his old friend in surprise.

"Are you sure? I mean, I could do something to… I do work at the Ministry, as you might remember?" He let himself slip the remark, his voice doubtful where it should have been at least holding a hint of approval, as he took a sip from his Fire Whiskey and looked up in surprise. "This is indeed a very good Fire Whiskey."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Theodore," Draco replied stiffly, looking past him with a blasé expression as he tried to hide his sudden tension. He ignored Theodore's comment on the Fire Whiskey he promised to bring along to toast on Christmas and the upcoming New Year.

Theodore and his wife Tracey lived in a wizarding block of flats not far from Diagon Alley. It was a classy place despite being modestly seized and the calm atmosphere created by its two thoughtful occupants made Draco feel at ease. But, now he was looking before him with a closed-off expression on his face and Theodore studied his friend before he took another sip from his Fire Whiskey.

"Oh, come on, Draco, don't play me for a fool. Like I don't know what has been going on for the past few weeks," Theodore replied disapprovingly. That earned him a cold gaze from his friend. "And what exactly might that have been, then?"

Theodore narrowed his eyes as he looked at Draco. The man hadn't been this impervious since before… long. There was a wall around him, which nobody, not even his old friend, could breach. He shook his head. Not nobody. "She could use a little support, you know. She's standing all alone in this."

Theodore looked up when Draco suddenly put down his glass and stood up abruptly. "There's nothing I would be needing from the Ministry right now, nor do I owe the Ministry anything, Theodore." His grey eyes turned to steel mirrors as he spoke. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some errands to do. Don't bother, I'll see myself out. Merry Christmas, Theodore."

The door of the chic London flat was closed rather forcefully as Theodore watched his friend go. Off on a headlong flight.

* * *

Christmas was approaching with quick strides and as snowstorms raged around Malfoy Manor, Draco actually welcomed the depressed quiet at home, ironically finding solace within the silent atmosphere in which nobody asked each other questions, especially not on vulnerable subjects.

For the second time since the war had ended, Draco tried to pick up his life as he had said goodbye to Granger indefinitely.

When weather permitted it, he made long flights across the high downlands and wide valleys Wiltshire was famous for. Being out in the crisp, open air did him well. He made some new Potions to replenish his mother's supplies, so she nor the house-elves would have to go out and buy them. He even helped his mother with coordinating the decorating of four Christmas trees spread through the house. He had stopped summoning his Patronus, avoiding the spell which had his thoughts wandering to subjects he'd closed off securely.

-x-x-x-

A week before Christmas he received a short note from Astoria, in which she sent her apologies and explained to him that given the circumstances she wouldn't accept his request to see each other in two days. Earlier, she had already withdrawn her invitation for her family's Christmas dinner. A bitter smile for a moment ghosted over Draco's lips as he read her message. He didn't blame her. But, he needed her to accept his invitation, nonetheless.

He swiftly wrote a short but understanding reply, requesting to please reconsider her decision. When he saw the weak winter sun breaking through the heavy clouds, he decided on impulse to go on a stroll to Owlery and send the letter himself.

He summoned his coat and walked through the kitchen towards the birdhouse, ignoring the stares from the house-elves.

-x-x-x-

It was a silent world outside and the snow muffled all sounds but for the soft crackling of snow under his shoes when Draco ploughed through the freshly fallen snow. Despite himself, he enjoyed the small walk through the wintery gardens.

The Owlery was a large birdhouse, not far from the kitchen garden so it was easy to reach for the house-elves.

Draco gave a low whistle when he approached the elegant, wooden structure, expecting that his Barn Owl Escuin would come to meet him. Therefore, he was mildly surprised when the brown bird didn't emerge from the birdhouse.

"Escuin?" Draco entered the aviary and looked around searchingly, seeing only a few family owls and his father's rare Greater Sooty Owl from Australia, but no sign of Escuin. He lifted his eyebrow, before he shrugged. The bird was probably still out from a night of haunting.

Quickly, he sent off one of the other owls and upon his return to the house called Slumpy with him. "Escuin was not in the Owlery today. I want you to regularly check the birdhouse for his return."

The house-elf nodded in confirmation and Draco left the kitchen, not noticing that Slumpy watched him with big, slightly frightened eyes as he held his bony hands protectively to his scrawny body.

* * *

Normally, Hermione loved this time of the year - when first snow had fallen and carol singers wandered through the beautifully decorated Diagon Alley, when decorating the Christmas tree and the cosy family dinners.

This year however she only saw the muddy slush that covered the treacherous layer of ice underneath it and the Christmas carols pierced her ears as she turned her eyes away from the brightly shining Christmas trees.

When she entered the Ministry countless of eyes turned toward her the moment she appeared the lobby.

Almost six weeks had passed since Harry had pleaded with her to reconsider. Now, she only wished she had done so.

A sigh escaped her, one of the countless ones, as she rested her head on her hands and tried to concentrate on the report before her. During this time of the year, Cornish pixies were creating havoc in the hills of Cornwall, scaring the Muggles living there and something had to be done about it. But to be honest, Hermione couldn't care less. As went for the illegally imported Acromantula eggs.

Six weeks… and about two weeks ago the press had finally grown tired of their obsession with Hermione's love life. A scornful, pained grimace contorted her face when she thought about it.

The break-up with Ron had been an emotional rollercoaster. She still could only remember his furious face through a mist of unshed tears. She also remembered his misunderstanding of her, like always, when she'd tried to explain and had to face utter humiliation as she lost one of her best friends under public scrutiny. She wanted to blame The Daily Prophet for this, but in her heart she knew that The Daily Prophet had only canalized that what had already been wrong between her and Ron for so long. With the worst possible result.

'Honestly Hermione, there's no possible way that you could have foreseen this to happen. No one in their right mind could. I certainly didn't,' Harry had said to her the day that hell had broken loose in The Daily Prophet. 'I mean, how can someone draw a supposed love affair out of this?'

He pointed at the inspection results being published at the front page of the newspaper. 'I was afraid of some bad publicity if something would happen to you at Malfoy Manor, but this… It will pass, Hermione, I'm sure it will.'

But, it didn't pass. It only became worse. Each and every day more pictures of her and Draco Malfoy were being published, mostly taken when they had coincidentally been attending the same social events. Old classmates were being drawn out of anonymity to tell the most fantastic and untrue stories on the developing relationship between the former enemies.

And then that picture was being published.

The photograph that made the situation finally explode and the mailbox of The Daily Prophet clogg up for days. The picture the world had come to know as The Corridor.

Dennis Creevey. That was the name that shot through her mind the moment she saw the photograph on the front page of the newspaper. She had actually admired the way the soft moonlight shone down on her and Malfoy and the way the ancient walls surrounding them had been captured. The scenery breathed a serene atmosphere she recognized from those quiet days between Christmas and New Year's Eve when she'd taught the Slytherin how to conjure a Patronus. It silently bore witness of an intangible moment in the lives of the both the main figures, proof of a strangely sheltered and tranquil period of time, which barely even felt like it actually happened to the both of them.

The picture had meant the end of her relationship with Ron.

* * *

"_You look rather close, though,"__ Harry hesitantly had pointed out, a strange mixture of hurt, mild disgust and amazement lacing his voice, as he had looked at the day old newspaper in his hand. Thank Merlin, he had been willing to consider her side of the story. He had been one the few. His remark had Hermione groan in dismay, though. "I told you…"_

"_I know, I know," Harry interceded, "you only taught him the Patronus spell, because he'd asked you to. It's hard to believe, but I'll try. Still, I don't understand why you've never told us."_

_He blinked when__ Hermione looked at him with eyes that suddenly shot fire. "And face all this? Don't you think I haven't at least foreseen Ron's reaction? There's no way in which he could have understood it and I wouldn't take the risk of telling him. He would have tried to interfere."_

_Knowing Ron's disgust for Malfoy, __Harry had to agree with her. He wasn't even sure if he himself wouldn't at least have tried to make her change her mind on this. He leaned back in his uncomfortable office chair as he studied her ferocious expression. Then his eyes returned to the newspaper, drawn in by the image of his dear friend and former arch-enemy standing closer to each other than ever before. They wore a strangely serene expression of… belonging on their faces, which somehow felt right. It was a very disturbing notion, but he knew that Hermione couldn't take much anymore. _

_There was one thing Harry wanted to know, though._

"_I know it's none of my business," he said slowly, "but I still don't understand why you would have gone to all this trouble for Malfoy." His voice had become lower as his bespectacled green eyes rested on Hermione._

_To his surprise a pained expression flashed over her features as she responded softly, "I'm not considering it a trouble if it means that by helping Malfoy the Patronus spell we'll another step away from hatred and war. Even if I had to keep the lessons a secret for my friends."_

_Her honest words touched Harry and as he__ slumped back in his office chair, he had said no more._

* * *

Days had turned into weeks as Hermione automatically went to work and held her head up high like nothing had happened. She ignored the not so very quiet whispers behind her back. And she tried to forget the painful moments when she coincidentally ran into Ron and they pretended not to see each other. But, the picture of her and Malfoy, extracted from the newspaper Harry had left behind, now rested in her purse.

Her parents had warmly welcomed her back to the parental home and she slept once again in her old girl's room. It actually helped to keep her ground in the madness she had to endure to go home to a place in the Muggle world where nobody knew who Hermione Granger was.

Every night she cried herself to sleep.

The worst thing was, that while she should have been thinking of Ron, the feelings of guilt she felt toward Malfoy ran much, much deeper.

Her Patronus couldn't possibly have brought across the way her voice had actually cracked when she had told the receiver of her last Patronus message that this would be the last time he would be seeing the otter.

Malfoy… she had been astonished the first time his ferret had unexpectedly appeared, carrying a message for her. How on earth had he managed to master that skill? Without anyone helping him? The second Patronus he'd sent her had made it clear that he'd remembered something she'd said about this years ago, but this only contributed to her admiration for his skill. And when he had finally bid her good night she had been relieved to understand that he didn't seem to blame her for what happened in the drawing room. He had merely been worried about her wellbeing instead, something she found the most amazing of all things.

The string of messages that had followed her first heartfelt reply finally had revealed to her some of what occupied Malfoy's mind, years after she'd become intrigued by his new demeanour at Hogwarts.

She learned about his interests and his daily activities. She came to know that the Potion he'd given her when she'd passed out had actually been of his own making. And he shared with her some of his more personal feelings, he wouldn't entrust with anyone else.

The moment the ferret appeared before her, the shimmer of his small body keeping the darkness at bay, had become the highlight of Hermione's day. His quiet interest in her, shining through the ferret's messages, reminded her of the way his silver eyes had captured her gaze the moment before he'd cast his first corporal Patronus at Hogwarts. That hesitant yet intense look, which had made shivers run down her spine each time she'd noticed it.

And then she'd betrayed him.

Of course, she did it to protect him, to shield him from the storm that was unleashed upon her, mindful of Harry's warning words. And while she'd tried to explain her reasons to Malfoy in the last Patronus message she knew that in the end to protect him meant to betray him. It hurt her more than she'd thought was possible, until her eye had caught the short personal announcement in yesterday's The Daily Prophet, giving notice of the engagement between Miss Astoria Greengrass and Mr. Draco Malfoy. At that moment it appeared that she had been wrong. As the earth slipped from under her feet the hurt was deepened even further.

"Miss Granger?"

Immediately, her head shot up and she saw one of her inspectors lingering hesitantly at her door, unsure if it were the right time to disturb Miss Granger.

"Yes. Come in, please," Hermione hastily acknowledged the younger woman. "What's the matter?"

"It's… this letter, Miss. It has just arrived by owl. Perhaps, you should read it…," The inspector's voice trailed away and Hermione now spotted the disheveled piece of parchment in her hand. Vaguely, she wondered about the inspector's apparent discomfort as she nodded wearily and extended her hand.

When the inspector had left, Hermione opened the letter and started to decipher the scribbles.

Then her eyes widened.

* * *

The day of Christmas Eve, after days of dry weather, downy little snowflakes started to whirl from the steely sky. From his favourite spot near the window of his study Draco watched the snow fall with a dark gaze in his equally steely eyes. The crystalline precipitation reminded him of that afternoon when snowfall had brought Granger to his doorstep and he frowned, immediately discarding the thought.

He pulled his gaze from the snow covered hydrangeas and instead focused his attention on the small, leather box in his hand. Astoria, whom he'd thought would never respond to his Owled message anymore, finally had agreed to meet with him today. Resignedly, Draco put the box on the occasional table. It was empty now. He was getting control over his life again.

With a last hard look at the innocent snowflakes Draco turned around and picked up the book he'd been reading, when suddenly the harsh sound of the magical doorbell ripped through the quiet Manor. He froze in shock, but then he furrowed his eyebrows in resentment as he cursed the one daring to ring that doorbell on this Christmas Eve afternoon and roughly shake up the house. It couldn't be Astoria.

After a moment of deliberation, Draco briskly crossed his study and swung open the door. He would confront the unwelcome visitor himself instead of leaving this to the house-elves. He crossed the hallway with long strides and shook his head to his mother who had emerged from the drawing room upstairs with a disturbed expression on her face.

Seeing the irritated expression on her son's face, Narcissa understood he wasn't expecting anyone and with a gracious nod, she closed the door again. He would be taking care of this.

Halfway the grand staircase Draco stopped, rested his hand on the banister and watched as Slumpy reached out for the magical horn.

The house-elf seemed to feel the young Master's stare on him because he looked up, then flinched slightly at the reserved expression on Draco's features. And he knew that whoever had rung that bell should have a very good reason for disturbing the family on this Christmas Eve afternoon.

"Who is it?" The house-elf squeaked through the magical horn. "Do you have an appointment?"

For a moment, when the message had to come through and responded to, it was quiet.

Then an unfamiliar voice replied, "This is the Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions. We're here for an unannounced re-inspection. Please, open the gate."

The silence in the entrance hall was deafening when the tinny voice disappeared and Draco found himself riveted to the spot as only thought stormed through his mind. They had returned. Despite their favourable decision, they had returned.

'I'll be there, when that time comes.'

The words he'd spoken to Granger in the messy garden of the Burrow, suddenly rang in his ears and his heart started to beat erratically in his chest.

Could it be possible…?

The mere idea that perhaps _she_ could be standing on the other side of the double doors knocked the breath out of him and as he desperately tried to contain the hope that wildly flared up inside of him, he stared down on the house-elf, vaguely registering that the creature somehow seemed petrified. He had turned toward Draco with wide, shocked eyes and his ears bobbed helplessly as he waited for Draco to respond.

Draco's voice was barely more than a whisper and his fingers unknowingly clenched the banister, when he finally managed to say, "On what grounds?"

After another, heavily leaden moment, the voice responded, "We've received a complaint that needs to be investigated and under article 3.16 of the Law Concerning the Protection of House-Elves you'll have to grant us access, sir."

Draco closed his eyes to this, now understanding that this inspection, the incomprehensible as the reason for it might seem to him, wasn't initiated by… her. She wouldn't be there. The fierce disappointment that threatened to wash over him at this realisation made him resort to Occlumency to compartment his mind and recollect his thoughts.

Only his set features finally betrayed a little of his uprooted feelings when he slowly nodded at the house-elf.

Slumpy carefully opened the heavy door and revealed two young inspectors whom Draco recognized from the previous time they'd visited Malfoy Manor. They acknowledged him respectfully when he slowly walked down the remaining steps and positioned himself before the young witch and wizard.

A grim expression hardened his regular features as Draco looked at them with an icy glare in his cold, silver eyes. "Two weeks ago I received a final decision from the Department in which was clearly stated that Malfoy Manor wouldn't be included in the inspection schedule for it least two years. I would like to know what the meaning is of all this."

The two inspectors flinched slightly under his demanding gaze, but then the witch seemed to remember her training and put a brave face on. "We're well aware of the unfortunate moment, just before the holidays, sir, but the decision also stated that a re-inspection could be in order in case of a complaint."

Draco's stone features darkened even further as he frowned at her words. "A complaint by whom?"

"A house-elf."

At this Draco's eyes widened slightly as a soft moaning escaped little Slumpy. He let his big ears hang and his shoulders drooped, while he conspicuously avoided to look at his Master. Draco slowly turned around and looked down on his house-elf. Suddenly, he noticed the plasters on its leathery hands and finally he understood of why his Barn Owl Escuin had gone missing. He groaned inside.

"Slumpy is sorry, Master," the house-elf spoke on the smallest of voices and shrunk when Master pinched his nose, sighing wearily.

"You should lead the inspectors to the kitchen, Slumpy. I think they will have a few questions for you to answer."

Why the house-elf had resorted to this was beyond him, but Draco wanted the inspectors out of his house as soon as possible. As the inspectors followed the dismayed house-elf to the kitchen, Draco shook his head and took the door handle to close the heavy door himself, when a soft voice spoke, "May I come in?"

-x-x-x-

Again, it had cost Hermione all the courage she could muster to come to Malfoy Manor, though this time for an entirely different reason. Had it only been six weeks ago since their last inspection, she wondered, as the inspectors were speaking with a house-elf, requesting for him to open the gate. Her heart was in her mouth when the gate vaporized them to smoke and she reappeared on the other side of the pathway leading to the inaccessible, castle-like manor. But when she'd read the letter from the house-elf Slumpy, containing the curious request, she hadn't hesitated.

A gush of wind blew her hair in her face and with an absent-minded movement, she pulled up her hood before signaling the inspectors to follow her on the long way to the big house, her black cloak fluttering in the wind.

-x-x-x-

It was when Draco had almost closed the door, when he heard the voice. "May I come in?"

It was a lovely voice, soft but not too sweet and the words were spoken hesitantly. His heart stopped at the sound of it and for a moment everything started to swim before his eyes.

There had been only two inspectors. Only two inspectors for the wretched re-inspection. He had seen only them. He was sure of it. Still, there it was, the voice he'd recognize at all times…

Automatically, he reopened the door and looked down on the only person who could elicit such a fierce reaction from him. "Hermione."

-x-x-x-

Hermione watched in slight fear as the door reopened hesitantly at her wavering words and revealed the silhouette of Draco Malfoy. Involuntarily, she held her breath.

Standing tall in the doorway, he looked down on her silently. His chiseled features were tense despite his effort to hide his emotions behind a mask of impassiveness. The piercing gaze in his steel grey eyes seemed to cut right through her, sharp like a knife. At laying eyes on her for the first time, her first name escaped him, almost like a sigh. Now, his silver eyes, the eyes that haunted her at night, changed into cold mirrors, reflecting nothing but her own image.

"Granger… I didn't know you would be honoring us with your presence," he repeated the words he'd said six weeks ago, but now with a bitter quality to them.

That time she'd reacted indignantly, now she only slightly bowed her hooded head and softly repeated the words she'd said only a minute ago. "May I come in?"

-x-x-x-

It was her. It really was her. She was here, looking at him with a guarded gaze in her warm, caramel eyes and her gleaming curls blew from underneath the hood of the cloak. She didn't wear the Ministry scarf.

Eagerly, he drank in the features he'd missed so much. She was paler than he remembered and a bit drawn from weariness, but still so beautiful.

Then he had heard her name escape from his lips, his tone of voice longing as he spoke and he cut himself off immediately.

The flat remark was the first to come to mind after this.

"Is the inspectorate still not functioning to your satisfaction, Granger?"

-x-x-x-

Hermione heard the sound of his even, yet somewhat sarcastic voice when she entered the grand hallway and vaguely noticed that the enormous vases flanking the staircase now contained a seasonal bouquet with white poinsettias. The entrance was beautifully decorated with enlightened festoons. She turned around to meet his eyes, confusion written on her face. "No."

"Then why have you come back, Granger?"

For an indivisible moment Hermione hesitated, then she replied quietly, "Because your house-elf asked me to."

That was an answer Malfoy didn't expect. Dumb-struck, he closed his mouth, his impassive expression being replaced by one of astonishment over what clearly was an unpleasant surprise to him. He narrowed his eyes but before he could say anything, Hermione asked on an urgent tone, "Can I speak with you in private?"

Her words were a silent plea, allowing him to decline, but something in her caramel eyes raised up to him seemed to win him over. He nodded curtly. "Come with me."

-x-x-x-

And here she was again, following Malfoy through the stately corridors of his house, as he led her to a room located at the back of the Manor.

Hermione expected him to bring her to one of the Manor's many drawing rooms, but to her surprise the room appeared to be his own study, a spacious room clad with bookcases reaching up to the ceiling and an enormous desk in the center. Two small, elegant armchairs and a low table stood underneath the large, multi-pane window, which was partially hidden by a heavily embroidered, brocade curtain. The image momentarily took her breath away.

In the mean time, Draco approached his desk with a few brisk strides and leaned against it, his arms crossed before his chest. Unyielding. "I would have offered you some tea, but the house-elves are busy as it is…," he started sarcastically, but his voice trailed away when his eyes came to rest on Granger tentatively proceeding into the luxurious working space. She was looking up the mahogany bookcases covering the walls as she let down her hood. The weak sunlight coming through the window suddenly lit up masses of gleaming curls, which made him involuntarily hold his breath.

Draco silently followed her movements and his expression softened imperceptibly as she let her eyes pass over the valuable, leather bound books surrounding her. He could tell she was impressed, but at the moment the books interested him less than the sight of her, the suppressed excitement on her beautiful features, the light in her caramel eyes.

When she turned around, the hint of a smile curled up her lips and Draco felt something stir inside as she turned her back to the shelves and came over to him. He watched her with a troubled gaze. After all what had happened, here she was again, summoned back to the Manor by his blasted house-elf, just when he'd decided to forget about her and go on with his life. And here she was, looking up at him with those caramel eyes of hers, the reason why he wouldn't conjure his Patronus anymore. She was standing so very close that he'd only needed to reach out to caress her hair.

He fleetingly wondered what the amount of time would be before her inspectors would discover there hadn't appeared any wrongs in the Malfoy household since the last inspection. How much time he'd had before the surprise inspection was over and she would disappear from his perspective for good and this unexpected moment would merely appear to be a figment of his imagination.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Granger momentarily took the smooth, woolen fabric of his expensive pullover between her forefinger and her thumb and said, "You're wearing black again."

Her thoughtful voice was laced with a hint of regret. He remembered as if it was yesterday the satisfied expression in her weary eyes when she'd rested in his arms, telling him that she liked how he didn't wear black anymore.

* * *

"_Does that bother you?"_

_After his initi__al confusion about her strange and out of place remark, her whispered words had actually amused him, made him feel grateful somehow. He hoped she didn't notice his breathing picking up pace at having her in his arms and having her head resting against his shoulder._

_She had shaken her head, her lovely face pale as she closed her eyes. "No, you look less scary that way."_

_The__ honest answer had made a shiver go down his spine and involuntarily he had pulled her more tightly against him, before he managed to reply. _

_She had fallen asleep with her head intimately placed against his collarbone, a vague smile playing around her lips. _

_For a moment, he had been sitting motionless__ on the blue Persian rug, his arms protectively wrapped around the sleeping young woman, then he had bowed his head and f__inally, he had been able to voice the guilt and regret he felt toward her for such a long time._

_He had buried his face in her soft curls, feeling that the faint flowery scent of her silky hair soothed him as he whispered chokingly, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry."_

_Then__ he had scooped her up and carried her out of the drawing room to meet the startled inspectors with a grim and determined expression about his mouth._

* * *

The memory still made a shiver run down his spine and Draco had to resist the urge to reach out and let those curls slide through his fingers again.

As he forced his thoughts to safer grounds, he took in a quiet breath and looked at the young woman before him with a stony face.

"You wanted to speak with me," he established tersely, inviting her to come to business.

Granger gave a small nod, then said softly, "Congratulations on your… engagement. I read about it in the newspaper." He merely nodded in acknowledgement, without happiness and she slightly bowed her head.

"I… missed your Patronus," she then said, her voice turning even softer.

For a moment, her vulnerable confession lingered in the air as none of them said something.

"Is there a point to this?" Draco finally replied dismissively, his voice cold and sharp when he answered, as his expression hardened.

-x-x-x-

Hermione flinched slightly at his reprimanding words, the unreadable look in his steel grey eyes and his guarded pose. He was completely closed off from her.

Of course. What had she expected? He was protecting himself. That much was clear. Protecting himself against the Gryffindor, Harry Potter's best friend, that kept barging in on his life, only to leave behind a mess every time she did so. And what for? What did she need with him who had been her most bitter enemy at school that she repeatedly disregarded all warnings from Harry?

Hermione drew in a breath and for a moment it looked like she was going to answer him, but then she shook her head. Dejectedly, she stepped around him instead, putting some distance between them as she went to stand by the window. She looked at the deserted garden below her, slumbering in hibernation. Little did she know that she was standing on the same spot where Malfoy had been standing earlier, or did she see the mixed feelings flashing over his face as he turned around.

As she looked outside, she wondered what could have possessed her to decide to come along with the inspectors. Looking back, she concluded that she hadn't really been thinking when she gathered up her inspection team after she'd finished reading the house-elf's letter. All she had known until now was that she wanted to grasp the opportunity to speak with Malfoy, to explain to him why she had broken off contact with him. But, now that she was back again and standing in Malfoy's study, she didn't know where to start, her heart sinking into her boots at his cold demeanour.

At that moment, her eye fell on the book lying open on the small table before her. A well-thumbed Slytherin bookmark from Malfoy's schooldays divided the pages.

Almost automatically, she leaned forward and picked up the old bookmark, looking at it silently. It had been long since she'd seen one of those. Every student at Hogwarts owned a pair of House bookmarks, handed out to them in their first year. Towards the seventh year however most of the bookmarks had been lost in the chaos that was student life. Hermione softly rubbed her thumb over the Slytherin seal embossed in the thick, dark green parchment. She closed her eyes when she spoke, tightening her hold on the bookmark. "What did you tell that little Slytherin boy, back during the holidays?"

"Excuse me?"

His voice was low, disbelieving, almost threatening, as he responded to her unexpected question. Hermione heard footsteps coming up at her and she turned around. Barely concealed anger now flashed over his features when he stood still before her.

"Is that what you came here to ask me? What I said to the boy, back then?" He snarled and one fleeting moment Hermione thought he actually looked… disappointed.

He narrowed his eyes as he made a dismissive gesture and started to turn around. "I have no time for this…"

Quietly spoken words then cut him off.

"That was the question I had wanted to ask you…" Hermione drew in a shallow breath and raised her eyes to the grim young man before her, "… before I saw no other way than to stop the communication through our Patronuses..." her voice grew a little hoarse, "… to protect you."

-x-x-x-

"… to protect you."

The words resounded in his ears as Draco stood riveted to the spot. Suddenly, he was a complete loss for words. But, he knew it had to be true when her eyes looked up at him in a silent plea to understand. And understanding did dawn to him.

How wrong had he been. She had shut down all communication with him, not out of regret like had been thinking until now, but most probably as a result of some misplaced warning from Potter when The Daily Prophet had started publishing a stream of pictures of them. She had wanted to protect him.

He clenched his teeth as he was painfully reminded of how the Golden Trio must see him - the former Death Eater turned good, in need of their benevolent protection as he hid from the world in his countryside manor.

It sickened him to think that she of all people, would look upon him like that as well.

"I wasn't aware that I needed protection against anything, Granger," he spat bitterly, trying to bite back the bile from the humiliation and the soaring hurt.

Only vaguely did he register that her expression actually became a little reproachful, like she'd expected more of him. "Don't you understand? If someone had intercepted our Patronuses… You would have gotten the blame, entirely."

Draco understood what she silently left out. The blame for her break-up with Ron Weasley.

Then ferocity left her tone of voice as her eyes filled with regret. "I didn't want you to be drawn into… this. It would be unfair to you… especially after…" She shook her head. "I had already burdened you with far too many of my problems and after all you had done for me, it was time for me start acting like a Gryffindor as well and keep you out of harm's way."

A bitter expression appeared on Draco's features when she referred to the moment that she'd called him a real Gryffindor.

"They've tried," she continued on a softer tone, ""but while The Daily Prophet did have some blurry pictures, that was all they had. Just imagine if that wouldn't have been the case…"

A silence descended between them as Draco motionlessly watched the beautiful young woman before him as mixed feelings stormed through him. He felt his anger flowing off.

She was right. Of course she was right. The level of communication through their messages had been so personal, so vulnerable he shuddered at the thought of those falling into the hands of that rat from The Daily Prophet. And while she and the moronic redhead could do nothing wrong in the eyes of the wizarding world, it would probably be him, the previous follower of the Dark Lord, they would have turned against for seducing the light of the Golden Trio. Instead, she had taken all of the blame, as she had been the one to approach him, six years after their repeated year at Hogwarts, of which The Daily Prophet apparently had known about.

Her words had touched him as he tasted the genuine guilt behind them, but he didn't understand it. Apparently, she had no idea what the visits of her otter had meant to him. The use of the word 'burden' couldn't have been farther away from the truth. He felt the last remnants of his anger evaporate as he watched Granger intently, noticing a lonely tear that escaped her eye.

-x-x-x-

Hermione held her breath when Malfoy slowly raised his hand, caressing her cheek as he wiped away the salty moist. His fingers lingered longer than necessary and Hermione shivered at the tender touch, causing even more tears to well up in her eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that, Hermione," he whispered regretfully as his silver eyes finally softened and looked at her searchingly. "It wasn't worth it. I'm not worth it."

Hermione bowed her head and as she heard her name fall from his lips again, the tears now started to flow over her cheeks freely as relief about his understanding and sadness over the past four weeks found a way out. Abhorred, she turned away to hide them from view. "I'm sorry," she choked. "It will pass."

Harry had said such a thing as well, when the first pictures started to appear in the newspaper. Such bitter times had followed. Vaguely, she noticed that Malfoy drew his wand and whispered forcefully, "Expecto Patronum!"

In the shimmering silver light that suddenly filled the room, Malfoy ordered quietly, "Go stand guard."

Then he spoke again. "Hermione."

His voice sounded softer than ever and the coldness had completely disappeared from his tone when he said, "Hermione, please…"

He sounded a bit more urgent now and her chin was being lifted gently until her eyes met his. She had to blink away the tears to see him. Her heart skipped a beat at the intense, tender expression in his silver eyes.

"Don't be ashamed," he said quietly, "I'm glad you came back."

He pulled back his hand, taking a stray curl between his fingers. With a gentle gesture he tugged it behind her ear, brushing the silky tresses of her hair. For a moment, Hermione didn't move as her pulse quickened at the unexpected sensation but then she involuntarily closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean into his touch. For the duration of the moment she relished in the feeling of his hand on her cheek as he laced his fingers through her hair.

Vaguely, she noticed the whispering of her name that made her heart jolt in her chest. Then the world stopped turning when she felt his lips on hers.

It was only for a moment, a fleeting brushing caress and it had disappeared the moment she registered the infinite gentle sensation.

But, it made a jolt of electricity shoot through her core.

Then Malfoy suddenly jerked up his head, breaking the contact as he stepped back the same instant. That was the moment that Hermione noticed the silver light unexpectedly filling the study and her eyes widened when she discovered the small ferret that had just appeared before them. Something was wrong.

As Malfoy quickly approached the Patronus, Hermione let out a trembling breath. Closing her eyes, she tried to compose herself, mentally scolding herself for the urge to reach out to the blond young man who had his back turned to her right now.

He had only been intending on consoling her - the comforting way he had looked at her after she'd opened her eyes had been very clear on that. And why wouldn't he as he was engaged to be wed to Astoria Greengrass?

A sudden wave of nauseating disappointment washed over her at remembering this. The next moment she saw that the Patronus disappeared into thin air and Draco turned around, a guarded expression in his otherwise unreadable gaze. "They're coming up."

-x-x-x-

Draco sat down behind his desk quickly, trying to compose himself as he still felt the feeling of Granger's lips on his. He had acted on impulse, when he saw her tears, silent witness of what she'd gone through the past few weeks. For him. He had felt her small gasp when he took her in his arms and he hadn't been able to suppress the bitter smile curling up his lips as he felt his own pulse quickening at holding her in his arms once more. He tried not think of what this could mean for his engagement to Astoria.

Glancing at Hermione he noticed that she'd taken a seat in one of the arm chairs by the window with a thoughtful, somewhat sad expression on her face. The winter sun cast a soft golden glow on her chestnut hair. It made her look almost ethereal.

A bitter line hardened Draco's mouth and he averted his gaze when someone knocked on the door. "Miss Granger?"

Draco sighed inwardly as he drawled, "Come in."

The door opened and Granger's two inspectors entered the study, a slightly worried expression on their faces.

Granger put down the book she'd picked up only seconds ago with an air as if she'd been reading it for the past half hour. "Yes?"

Draco's gaze followed her as she stood up, noting her grace and dignified posture when she did so.

"Miss Granger. There has been no wrong doing in the Malfoy household since the last inspection. The house-elf has confessed that he merely wanted to see you… and as he had read the final decision, figured this would be the easiest way…"

Despite himself, Draco had to bite back an appreciative smile as the inspectors told their story, still a bit overwhelmed. Clever Slumpy. He remembered handing over the letter from the Ministry to the house-elf to file it away.

Granger lifted one eyebrow in mild surprise, subconsciously copying the person who sat behind his desk and Draco felt his heart skip a beat at the subtle movement.

"Did the house-elf also say why?" Her voice sounded matter-of-factly, businesslike.

The inspectors shook their heads in confusion. "No, he only stated that he liked Miss Hermione…"

At this Draco narrowed his eyes, knowing the silent meaning behind the house-elf's use of her first name. This went by unnoticed by the inspectors and Granger though.

"I think it's better that we not make a report of this," she said thoughtfully.

"Miss Granger, because of his request he has ironed his hands and then ironed them again because he isn't allowed to hurt himself anymore." One of the inspectors interjected a bit helplessly. "According to article 7.3…"

"I know of article 7.3," Hermione cut him off and sighed before turning to Draco. "Mister Malfoy," she addressed him formally and he looked back impassively at her serious gaze, "this is an unfortunate situation. We were called in on Christmas Eve by a house-elf who had no sustainable complaint but has hurt himself in the process. According to the regulations we cannot let that factor pass unnoticed."

Draco gave a somewhat curt nod. "I understand. Naturally, I apologize for the inconvenience caused." His smooth reply contrasted the erratic beating of his heart as he silently watched Hermione and the way she waved her hand at explaining to him what he already knew.

"However," she continued, "as has been established that no wrong doing has appeared from the side of the family and the house-elf has clearly acted outside the vision of the family to see me personally, we can deal with this by giving a first warning to encourage the family to better check on injuries with house-elves caused by themselves."

The inspectors listened silently. Hermione looked Draco in the eye, ignoring her heart missing a beat as she spoke. "Mister Malfoy, is Malfoy Manor committed to upholding the rules on self-punishments by house-elves and is Malfoy Manor willing to ensure that this has been and will be supervised?"

Draco's face was unreadable when he slowly nodded. "I am."

"Then I'd better go down to the kitchen and before we leave have a proper meeting with…"

"Slumpy," Draco evenly finished her sentence for her, the mention of the silly name in sharp contrast to his dismissive tone of voice.

"Slumpy," Hermione repeated, nodding at him before she turned toward the inspectors. "When your findings appear to be right, I suggest we resolve this the way I just described. Agreed?"

-x-x-x-

Malfoy rose from his seat and the inspectors opened the door, ready to leave the study, when the female inspector's eye caught the book Hermione had been holding the moment they had entered the study. "Miss Granger? Ehm, you forget your book."

Hermione slowly turned around, wondering what the inspector was hinting at, when her eye fell on the book that had been there on the table when she'd entered the study, about an hour ago. Though her eyes had been drawn toward the Slytherin bookmark, subconsciously she had noticed the paper pages, the modern typography, the linen binding. And she had known that this was not a wizard book, but before she could ask Malfoy about it, the inspectors had been knocking on the door.

Now, following the worn in rules of expectation and prejudice, the young inspector had concluded that the book Hermione had been holding in her hands before, could only belong to her Muggle born chief.

Taken aback, Hermione turned toward Malfoy with a slightly helpless gaze in her eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw something sparkle in the cold mirrors his eyes had turned into the moment the inspectors had knocked on the door as he seemed to suppress a bitter grimace. Imperceptibly to the inspectors, he nodded once in consent, mouthing, 'take it.'

Hesitantly, she walked back to the low table by the window and picked up the book, closing it carefully. One moment later, Malfoy closed the door behind them.

-x-x-x-

The house-elf had been terrified but had shaken her hand nonetheless, as Draco had been looking on with a quite gloomy expression in his eyes. Without ceremony the inspectors then announced they'd seen enough and were ready to leave. They wanted to go home.

When one of the other house-elves opened the door and the inspectors stepped outside. Once again, Hermione pulled her hood over her chestnut curls and followed quietly, looking up at Malfoy for the last time as she stepped past him.

For a moment, their eyes locked in a mutual expression of infinite regret, then Hermione turned away and walked down the steps.

The last thing she said was, "Merry Christmas… Draco."

* * *

With his eyes Draco followed the supervising inspector, a dark silhouette against the wintery garden and unwittingly clenched his teeth as he watched her leaving again. An agonizing feeling coursed through him at the sight.

He didn't tear his gaze from the pathway until the inspectors had evaporated through the wrought-iron gates, then turned around after closing the door. At that moment, he noticed Slumpy standing behind him, looking up at him with a slightly sad expression in his big eyes. But, when he opened his mouth to say something, the house-elf had already snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Never before, Draco had felt so lost as he was left behind in the hallway, his eyes unseeingly focused on one of the vases filled with poinsettias.

"What are you going to do now?"

At first, Draco thought he had imagined the soft voice, until he raised his eyes and noticed that his mother was looking down on him with a slightly disapproving but also somewhat sad gaze in her ice blue eyes.

Draco let her words sink in, then closed his eyes, torn by doubt. He didn't know anymore what to do. Everything had been so clear this morning, but now the only feeling remaining as he leaned against the door was a longing he knew wasn't to be silenced anymore. A sigh resembling a groan escaped his lips, until he remembered the look in his mother's eyes.

It had been knowing. Demanding. Encouraging.

He snapped up his head and as Narcissa watched her only son, she saw that his steely grey eyes, so akin to his father's, filled with determination. For a moment, their gazes crossed but he was already miles away when he turned around and walked up the stairs.

The sound of his brisk steps echoed through the marble hallway as Draco left his mother standing, a melancholy expression on her features.

-x-x-x-

Half an hour later, Draco dried his quill and folded the brief note in an envelope. Then he got up to open the window and whistled softly. Not long thereafter a beautiful brown Barn Owl landed on his windowsill.

"I need you to bring this note to Theodore, Escuin. And don't leave him alone until he's taken the envelope," Draco said with emphasis. The bird blinked his big, yellow eyes, then jumped up and disappeared into the night sky. On his way to bring Draco's message to his old and probably very smug, friend.

_Theodore,_

_Can you get me an invitation to the Ministry? It's important._

_Draco_

* * *

**A/N:** _I want to thank all of you who have reviewed the last chap__ter. I'm really grateful for the encouraging and enthusiastic responses, so naturally I'm very curious how you like the new chapter._

_A lot of you asked about Hermione and I'm glad that her point of view is returning in this chapter._

_I would also like to thank Flamelm for the remark on the music covering each chapter. Two Steps From Hell makes music especially for movie trailers and the melodies are beautiful. _

_It seems that in this chapter Slumpy has been trying to play matchmaker! Did he succeed? At least Draco has sent a message to Theodore to get an invitation into the Ministry…_

_Thank you for reading!_


	10. New Year

**The Inspection on Elfish**** Labour**** Conditions **

**Part 2: Re-Inspection **

**Chapter 6: New Year**

Music: Jeremy Soule, Solitude (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

* * *

The days after Christmas were quiet ones at the Ministry as most of the wizards and witches had taken the week off. It was a benevolent quiet for Hermione as the number of surreptitious glances cast in her direction had decreased dramatically. Only Theodore Nott, an old friend of Draco's whom she knew worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, gave her an odd look when they ran into each other in the Level 2 corridor. She rather forgot about that moment, realising how close she had been to stopping him and asking him about…

As she tried to forget about the image of a blond young man with cool, grey eyes slumbering in the back of her mind, it became New Year's Eve. The Ministry would be closing up earlier that day, but not before organizing a get-together for the employees. It was tradition for those who would be working that day to wear something different from the normal work robes.

Hermione hadn't been in the mood for this at all, but had succumbed to tradition and decided to wear the lovely forest green, silk wrap dress her mother had pressed her into buying in that Muggle shop in London. Mrs. Granger had taken her daughter there to divert her thoughts. Hermione could see that she worried about her only daughter, which made her feel guiltier.

Hermione, thinking of her magical wardrobe full of ball gowns and cocktail dresses from the social balls she had visited with Ron, had wanted to refuse, but her mother's encouraging gaze had been too much for her and she had given in.

When she had scrutinized her own appearance in the mirror this morning and seen her chestnut curls cascading down her shoulders and halfway the three quarter sleeves, she'd established that the dress suited her well enough, but that her caramel eyes were looking at her sadly and she looked rather pale.

Sighing wearily, Hermione looked up from the report on Troll activities, checking her watch for the time. And inevitably, she felt that her thoughts once again drifted to the moment in this study at Malfoy Manor where she'd felt the fleeting touch of Draco Malfoy's lips against hers and the barely noticeable sigh that followed before he had suddenly let go... The memory still made her shiver, mocking her regret for not having folded her arms around his neck and answer him with the kiss she had been longing to give him ever since that first inspection when she'd woken up to the sight of his glistening eyes that searched her features worriedly...

And now it was too late. She would not be interfering in his life any longer. He deserved his happiness with Astoria Greengrass.

So, she tried to ignore the aching of her heart and go on with her life.

Outside the small enchanted window in her office it became dark as the lights on the streets were being lit. The drink would probably commence in a moment and Hermione could here the colleagues that had already started to leave for the canteen.

A minute later, Hermione stood up too and began to clear her desk. She wished she could laugh as carelessly as the colleagues passing by her office. But, she'd already lost the ability when Voldemort still cast his shadow over Britain and now there was a dejectedness added to her seriousness that made the sound hurt her ears.

Wistfully, she cast a glance at the window, behind which small snowdrops whirled down like specs of light falling from the moon. She remembered that other New Year's Eve seven years ago when it had been snowing as well and an owl had landed on the balustrade of the fourth floor terrace at Hogwarts, bringing her the message that had made her miss the fireworks completely that year.

For a moment, a far-away look appeared in her brown eyes, before Hermione shook her head dismissively and closed off her desk for the holidays, mentally preparing herself to meet her colleagues' curious glances. She promised herself to stay only for half an hour and then quietly leave for home.

"Hermione Granger?"

Hermione's hands froze midair, still holding the files she had been wanting to store away in the iron filling cabinet next to the entrance to her room, when she heard the soft, familiar sound.

… It couldn't be…

It was then that she noticed that the whole office was set in a glistening silver glow.

Slowly, she turned around, as her eye fell on the lithe ferret-formed Patronus, looking up at her with trusting eyes. Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

"Draco," she whispered as her heart leapt up in her chest. "How…," She had been sure she would never see his Patronus again, but here the small creature was, in her office. Completely caught off guard, she leaned against the filling cabinet, trying to find support as her legs suddenly felt like they would give in any moment.

Then a shaky smile formed on her lips and hesitantly she took a step forward, reaching out to the Patronus like she had done before. The small animal sat on his hind legs and allowed for her to touch the light he was made of, before he looked up at her again. Not until now she realised how much she'd missed seeing the small Patronus.

"I come with word from Draco Malfoy," the ferret told her in his soft, tingling voice. "He still owes you a message, in answer to your question."

Her question? Hermione blinked in confusion, when understanding dawned to her and her eyes widened slightly. She had completely forgotten about the question she'd asked him, in his study in the afternoon of Christmas Eve. She had never expected to receive an answer anymore, but here Draco's Patronus was to fulfill a promise he never made.

Subconsciously, Hermione went down on her knees as she kept staring at the glistening animal form before her.

"It's New Year's Eve and the Ministry will be closing up early," the Patronus continued imperturbably, unaware of Hermione's inner agitation, "but Draco hopes you still have some time for him to tell you what happened the night that he was too late for Patronus lessons."

* * *

_By habit, Draco ignored his own reflection in the mirror as he checked his Slytherin tie and straightened his white oxford, rolling down the sleeves before he pulled the anthracite woolen sweater over his head__. A determined expression had settled on his features as he ran a hand through his hair and finally picked up his wand. _

_He had been reading all day, leaning against the head of his four-poster as he enjoyed the peace and quiet of the deserted Slytherin dormitories during the holidays. An indefinable restlessness had made him check the time every now and then, though as his thoughts had wandered off to the upcoming evening. He was looking forward to the next Patronus lesson, expectant about improving on yesterday's accomplishment._

_Last night, he'd succeeded in producing a string of light after he'd chosen an early childhood memory of a __carefree family day at the beach when he had built Malfoy Manor from the sand, with some magical and non-magical help from his father. Perhaps, he'd been five or six years old. It had been a good day. _

_His thoughts trailed back to the moment Granger had looked up at him in exhilaration at his first accomplishment. He didn't really understand her enthusiasm, as it had been simple enough to conjure this string of light. But, he wasn't interested in casting a string of light - he wanted to create a corporal Patronus. Perhaps, if he would show as much progress as yesterday night, he would succeed in his resolution before the end of the week. _

_And then there was Granger. He felt awkward around her as they had been enemies for as long as they had been in school. Part of him was just downright scared of her. Being a Slytherin he wasn't afraid to admit it. But, when Granger offered him to teach him how to conjure a Patronus he'd accepted almost instantly, clearly seeing in her offer the opportunity as the exercise in redemption he'd returned to Hogwarts for. To conjure a full-bodied Patronus was to proof to himself that he wasn't beyond salvation. _

_Granger was curious about him. He knew that. It had probably been the main reason for her to offer him her help. He tried not to let himself be bothered about it, though he still felt ill at ease at being regarded with anything different than hatred or disgust by one of the Golden Trio. _

_But, as his wariness of her subsided he became curious about her, too. Curious as to what had made her think about him on Christmas Eve while b__eing with the Weasel's ever expanding family. Curious as to why she was just as eager for him to succeed in mastering the Patronus spell as he was. Curious about what her expectations of life were, now that she had become a living legend at such a young age… Curious, genuinely curious, for the first time in seven years, about who this talented Muggle-born witch was. But, he was still miles away from asking her._

_Before he left his dorm, he put on his school robes and swiftly walked down the short corridor toward the common room to go to dinner. He was looking forward to another night of practicing. _

-x-x-x-

_The sound of his footsteps announced his arrival in the Slytherin Common Room when Draco heard a choked sob. He stopped dead in his tracks, turned his head toward the Chesterfields in front of the hearth and narrowed his eyes against the dusky, mysterious __light of the green lampshades. It was then that he noticed the little first-year, curled up on one of the sofas as the light of a floor lamp shone down on him. Another sob escaped the boy. _

_For a moment, Draco didn't know what to do and automatically he looked around for other students he knew weren't there. His wistful gaze was drawn toward the exit to the Slytherin dormitaries,__ his heart pulling him toward the Great Hall where Granger would be waiting for him. But, as the little boy continued to cry softly, Draco shook his head. _

_Suppressing a sigh, he changed direction and tentatively went to sit on the other side of the sofa. _

-x-x-x-

"_Sometimes it helps to talk about it."_

_The small first-year hadn't noticed Draco's presence yet, and looked up when he suddenly heard a reserved voice. His big brown eyes widened in shock when he noticed that the voice belonged to the withdrawn eighth-year he'd stayed behind with over Christmas. The eighth-year had taken a seat on the other side of the sofa, dressed in school robes even during the holidays. His cool eyes rested on the small first-year, while his face didn't betray any emotion. _

"_I…," he hiccupped as words failed him at the unexpected turn of events. The eighth-year hadn't looked at him since Christmas Eve when he'd asked him on impulse to open presents with him. _

_Never before he'd dared to talk to the tall young man, discouraged by both the other students and Draco's aloof attitude, but that night a feeling of loneliness had made him cross those boundaries. To his own astonishment back then, the eighth-year had actually agreed and had squatted down next to him to retrieve a present from underneath the Christmas tree. _

_The package the older student had opened had been the only one addressed to him and had contained a magnificent gold watch with the Draco constellation engraved on the silver plate, which the blond young man had put in his pocket indifferently. _

_But, the small boy himself had given a whoop of joy from the Quidditch book some distant cousin had sent him. The eighth-year had allowed for a moment for him to revel in his new book, then he'd curtly but not unfriendly told him it was time to go bed. _

_And now he invited him to talk about what was bothering him. He didn't want to talk about it, especially not to the witch from the Ministry that had become his guardian. Professor McGonagall had called him to her study, too, but he found her stern gaze so frightening, too righteous. But, maybe… maybe the eighth-year, whose allegiance had once laid with the Dark Lord as well, would understand. _

_The small boy wiped his face as he sat up, smudging his face with mucus in the process. His dark brown hair was a mess. A bit like Potter's, was the thought that fleetingly flashed through Draco's mind as he waited for the boy to say something. _

"_I… miss my mother," he started hesitantly, his voice barely a whisper. "She… she's in Azkaban and, and…" his voice croaked and he bowed his head as large tears rolled down his grimy cheeks. "I don't understand. She fought hard for the Dark Lord and she fought good. She's even killed a few members of the Order."_

_Draco stiffened when he heard these words roll from the small boy's lips, understanding what had made the mother end up in Azkaban. Which was incomprehensible for a young child brainwashed like him._

_For a moment, he looked at the first-year unseeingly as memories of the harsh prison flooded his mind. It had been there that he and his father had to await their acquittal and though the Dementors weren't there to guard the facility anymore, it had been the worst, most agonizing weeks in his life, even after the Dark Lord's occupation of their home. He had slept on a filthy stack of hay covered with a smudgy grey sheet and had to relieve himself in the bucket across from him in the tiny cell. Water dripped from the walls and day and night the sound of people coughing and sometimes screaming could be heard. _

_But, the worst had been the thoughts, doubts, fears and feelings of guilt and despair coming at him while he sat in his cell alone, with only the lice to keep him company. Views like this boy uttered before had led him there and this situation was turning into a confrontation, a merciless mirror showing him what he wasn't ready yet to face - that he still didn't feel like he deserved this second chance._

_The boy must have noticed that he'd suddenly frozen, as he'd wide awake relived one of his worst nightmares and Draco was pulled from his thoughts when the little boy looked at him searchingly. A shadow momentarily passed over Draco's face, before his impassiveness returned. "Where's your father now?"_

_The boy immediately, mercifully averted his gaze._

"_Dead." His voice sounded dulled. He had already had been through too much at his young age. "I was going to be Death Eater one day, too, mummy and daddy told me, when I would be big enough. And my mother says I can still be when I'll revenge my father on those filthy Mud…," he lowered his gaze at seeing the scorching look in Draco's steel grey eyes, "Muggle-borns who killed him."_

_Draco inconspicuously studied the excited glint in the boy's eyes as he kept a stony face, but on the inside he felt alarmed. This was much, much worse then he'd expected. _

_Then__ he realised something. "Do you still have contact with your mother?"_

_The boy nodded and pointed at a letter lying on the floor Draco hadn't noticed yet. He picked it up and after casting a guarded look at the boy, read it quickly. It was as he'd already expected. Most of what had been written in there was meant to stir up the boy's feelings of hatred. He had to speak about this with Professor Slughorn, Head of Slytherin House, for sure._

_He set his jaw and his eyes darkened at reading this much blind fanaticism, this violent narrow-mindedness. And it was threatening to overtake this boy, too. His gaze fell on the mentioning of Hufflepuff in the letter. Apparently, the boy had written that he'd befriended some first-years from this amiable house and the mother didn't approve of that. _

_Draco slowly raised his eyes, beginning to see the small boy's tears in a different light. What was worse than having to miss his mother, was being rejected and put in his place in this harsh letter by that very mother he missed. _

_He let his eyes wander through the dimly lit common room in slight panic, realising that he had to set something against the mother's destructive views on the world. He understood that the boy's loyalty would made him follow his mother to the end of the world, while at the same time he craved for a little bit of peace, love and friendship._

_It was a heart-wrenching feeling__ when he deep inside recognized the boy's situation and a bitter smile tugged at his lips before he turned toward the boy and conjured him a handkerchief which the boy gratefully took. He knew where to begin. _

"_I hope you're not tired yet, because what I'm going to say to you now will probably take a while. So, blow your nose and I'll tell you about what Slytherin House stands for and the greatest Head our House has ever had - Severus Snape. I owe him my life."_

-x-x-x-

_Draco had been exhausted and famished, completely drawn empty and a throbbing headache had nestled between his temples when he had gone to Patronus practice, only slightly too late, but he didn't care. The boy- his name was Andreas, he'd told Draco- had gone to sleep with a new awareness, a certainty that his life was worth living, the way all children did. Of course Granger had asked him about what happened but he simply hadn't been able to tell her. He couldn't go through all of that again. Not in one night. _

_The following day however __when he had been in the library, the Headmistress had walked past his desk and had given him one of her rare, small smiles, then said quietly, "Thank you." _

_And it had suddenly dawned to him that perhaps this had actually been his main purpose of him coming back to Hogwarts, the reason why McGonagall had been grateful for his return - not for his own benefit, but for the good of this boy- Andreas, to prevent him from following in the footsteps of Draco Malfoy._

* * *

Motionlessly, Hermione knelt in her office, head bowed, her silhouette becoming completely enveloped by the silver glow of the Patronus as she listened to the longest message the ferret had ever brought to her before he would disintegrate in a glistening mist.

Feelings of sorrow, pride, agony and compassion washed over her as the Patronus finally disappeared and long after the ferret was gone, she remained staring at the point where it had been floating in the air.

Never before had she realised what really went behind the moment that Draco had been too late for Patronus lessons. But, now she finally understood the vigour with which he had thrown himself on that lesson. Troubled and weary as he had been, he had succeeded only by will in making the progress he had made. He had tried to forget about the harsh confrontation with himself he'd just faced while helping the little boy. He hadn't merely reassured the first-year, like she'd always thought, but on his own expense he had given him a new perspective, possibly saving him from the doom now facing the rest of the boy's family.

Through this one message, he had taken away the last remains of wonder about the only eighth-year student to rise at the Slytherin Table at the sound of the polite applause, whose spectacular change of attitude had piqued her interest. The Slytherin who had showed her bit by bit whom he had become after the ending of the war. A person she'd actually come to like. Very much.

With her legs trembling, she rose from her spot on the floor and made a hesitant step backwards, until she felt the front of her desk press against her body. She clenched her teeth, a pained expression passing over her features as she thought of the young man whose Patronus she'd just seen dissolving and picked up her wand for a last reply to him whom she'd lost before she even had had the chance of telling him… how she felt about him.

-x-x-x-

"Hermione."

For the second time this early evening, Hermione froze, her raised wand pointing in the direction from where the awfully familiar voice came from. Her name was being said as an establishment, rather than seeking to alert her and there was a barely noticeable drawl in the reserved, male voice speaking. "Perhaps you'd better not summon your Patronus at this moment. People might be alerted."

Slowly, she looked up, a gasp stifled in the back of her throat.

In the doorway stood Draco Malfoy, dressed in inconspicuous wizard robes. It was an unusual sight, accustomed as Hermione was to his dark suits. The robes made him look even taller. He was looking at her thoughtfully, a somewhat dark gaze in his grey eyes, with which he cast a glance on her lowering wand. He still had his own in his hand.

The total unexpectedness of first seeing the ferret-formed Patronus appearing in her office, to be followed by its caster, made Hermione grasp her desk with a trembling hand. She didn't notice Draco's cool, grey gaze regarding her before they softened imperceptibly.

"You look beautiful," he remarked on a low voice. "The colour suits you."

Blood rushed to Hermione's cheeks and suddenly she became heavily aware of the snug, green, Muggle wrap dress she was wearing instead of her work robes.

She shook her head. This was all becoming too confusing. A quick glance at the window learned that the snowfall had intensified with Draco's arrival.

"Draco… What are you doing here?" Hermione ignored his sincere compliment and the beating of her heart as he stepped inside her office, taking her question for an invitation to enter. Of itself the door closed behind him.

"I'm here to collect my book," he replied calmly, an unreadable gaze in his eyes as he cast a glance about her small office. "Knowing you, I figured you've probably already read it. I really want to know the ending."

Hermione was taken aback, not having expected his reply.

Back in his study he had allowed her to take his book, to avoid an awkward situation. Of course he would be wanting it back. What could otherwise have been the reason for him to appear in her doorway so suddenly, when she thought she'd never speak with him again?

He was probably at the Ministry to visit his friend Theodore Nott. Perhaps they were planning on going to one of the many New Year's Eve parties. And he had decided it a good opportunity to retrieve his book while he was here.

Biting back the fierce disappointment that washed over her at the cold realisation, Hermione nodded silently and turned around. She opened a drawer in her desk, taking out a small package which was carefully wrapped in a piece of cheesecloth.

"I had intended to give it back to you, somehow," she apologized as matter-of-factly as she could manage while taking down the wrapping to reveal the black, linen cover. She didn't have to open it to visualize the elegant script on the endpaper that read 'Draco Malfoy.'

Draco merely nodded. "Of course."

He didn't make a move to take the book from her, though. Instead, he only watched intently as Hermione's finger trailed the silver title printed on the cover and let out a small, involuntary sigh.

When she looked up, she subconsciously hugged the book to her body. The tender movement elicited a slight widening of his eyes.

"It's a Muggle book." With these words Hermione finally voiced the astonishment she'd felt the moment she'd picked up the book at her inspector's encouragement, leaving behind the Slytherin bookmark.

"There's a small bookshop opposite from Flourish and Blotts where they sell Muggle books," Draco informed her cautiously and Hermione nodded in recognition. The bookshop was a solution to wizards and witches who never set foot in the Muggle world. He didn't explain as to why he'd decided to step inside the shop one day, much to the surprise of the shop assistant no doubt. He didn't have to.

"How do you like it?"

His gaze trailed to her arms holding the book against her stomach in a protective manner and something flickered in his eyes before a melancholy expression passed over his face. "It's a strangely light book to hold- but… it's a good read. The Muggle world possesses some great literature. The story is… recognizable. Even… for me."

Hermione's heart wrenched at his quiet, almost regretful words as she understood what he meant. He had been right - she had already read _The Remains of the Day _a long time ago. It showed how well he had come to know her over the past few weeks.

"The world really has changed, hasn't it?" Hermione's words were barely more than a whisper as she struggled to keep the sadness from her voice. She couldn't work up the courage to look at him. The knowledge that he would be leaving in a few minutes created a lump in her throat. Subconsciously, she tightened her hold on the book, as if holding on to the book would prevent him from disappearing for good.

He didn't seem interested in taking his leave already, though. Instead, he carefully, hesitantly reached out and placed his hands around hers holding the book, covering them rather than prying them away. His palms were warm and comforting and Hermione's breath hitched at the sudden contact. But, she didn't pull back and neither did he.

"I certainly hope so…," His whispered words were heartfelt, pleading for her to accept the truth in them.

She bowed her head, hiding behind the long tresses that mercifully veiled her red face.

In an attempt to distract herself, she asked the first question coming to mind, "How… how's Astoria?"

-x-x-x-

Draco stilled at her question, silently looking down on her chestnut curls. Had it been only weeks ago that she had asked him about Pansy in the attic?

"I don't know," he responded quietly and was it only his imagination that she seemed to tense up, "We... we're not together anymore."

Draco lowered his gaze. It wasn't something he was very proud of, especially after he'd realised that all this time it had been Hermione he had been searching for in Astoria. But Astoria was too good of a person and deserved her happiness, even if that meant that he would be ending up alone.

Hermione's breath had caught at his meaningful words and underneath his hands her own tightened their hold on the book. "Why?"

"I didn't see a possible future for us anymore, after the surprise inspection." A heavy silence descended upon them as Draco's words trailed away.

-x-x-x-

Hermione swallowed, keeping her eyes trained on his hands covering hers as they held on to the book.

'After the surprise inspection…' Her thoughts went in a frenzy as she heard his somewhat dejected voice, but she didn't dare to look up at him and search in his steel grey eyes for the confirmation she longed to find in there, afraid to be disappointed.

"I… Thank you," she changed the subject hesitantly, awkwardly. "For the message you sent to me before. I was glad… to see your Patronus one last time, but…," her voice faltered for a moment. "I feel bad for asking you about it. I shouldn't have. But somehow, I don't seem to stop doing that, don't I?"

He slightly cocked his head as he studied her for a moment, an expression of confusion passing over his face at her rhetorical question, but then he shook his head. "You never actually asked me. It's been my own choice to tell you. I found that you had the right to know."

His even voice didn't betray any emotions but when Hermione's gaze rose to meet his, she noticed the darkening of his eyes at the memory. He took his hands from hers as he stepped back and a pang of regret shot through her.

"What you did was… very, very important," she refuted his troubled expression. "I just wish I had taken a closer look at the boy at New Year's Eve, seven years ago. But, from what I remember he looked sincerely happy. You probably have given this boy his life back."

His piercing eyes narrowed at this, but when Hermione thought he would resent her words, he averted his gaze to the enchanted window.

"Once a year I receive a letter from Professor McGonagall in which she tells me how he's doing," he then remarked casually, as if this wasn't anything unusual.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

Draco nodded vaguely and mixed emotions flashed over his face when he added, "This year he has been appointed Head Boy. McGonagall informs me that he's already been accepted into St. Mungo's after graduation. He wants to become a Healer."

A bright smile lit up Hermione's features at the news. "That's brilliant," she whispered with glistening eyes. "That's absolutely brilliant."

-x-x-x-

Draco silently watched as he saw the weariness on Hermione's delicate features suddenly disappearing to make place for the radiance he remembered from the Patronus lessons. His heart jolted in his chest as he drank in the sight of her and felt his pulse quicken as he basked in the warmth of her smile, so proud, so… loving. At that moment, the sharp wrenching of his heart made him realise how much he had missed her, her optimism, her quiet intelligence, the sparkling in her eyes.

"It is," he agreed quietly, forgetting himself for a moment as his gaze longingly fixed on her face heaved up to him.

For a moment, there was only silence, but then Hermione's eyes widened at his words, when she realised that he wasn't talking about the first-year anymore.

Draco's gaze darkened and he lowered his eyes, knowing that he had crossed the line. With a bleeding heart, he waited for her to step back, dismissing him like he expected her to. He bowed his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha…"

He was silenced abruptly when two fingers were gently laid against his lips. His body froze at her delicate touch but Hermione looked up at him with a slightly pleading look in her eyes. "Don't… don't say that," she whispered. "Please."

Subconsciously, he closed his mouth against her fingers, causing them to slightly brush against his lips. A jolt of electricity shot through him and his head suddenly started to feel very light. Then he noticed the sharp intake of her breath. She had felt it, too.

-x-x-x-

Hermione's heart started to beat wildly in her chest at the intense gaze in his eyes as she felt the movement of his lips against her fingers. His captivating gaze held a burning devotion that had her breath hitch.

Gone were the withdrawn attitude, the reservation as the veil of vigilance was lifted to bare emotions she'd only seen shrouds of flash through his eyes before. Emotions she'd longed to see again ever since.

Mesmerized, she lowered her hand from his lips, barely noticing that he took a step closer. Only the book in her other hand separated them from each other now.

He lifted his hand and watched her eyelids flutter under the sensation of the soft caress of her cheek. Hesitantly, he leaned in and his lips were only an inch from hers when he paused.

"I missed you, Hermione," he whispered barely audible, finally being able to voice the loss he'd felt since they'd graduated from Hogwarts, "I missed you so much."

-x-x-x-

"Is this what is meant by lodging an objection to a final decision?"

As if stung, Draco and Hermione broke away from each other, spinning around to the sound of an amused voice. Their faces reddened to a deep crimson. In the doorway stood Harry and Theodore, each one looking at them with an expression ranging from amusement and mockery in Theodore's case to shock and hesitance in Harry's.

Despite that his thoughts were an incoherent mess and he was screaming inside about the bad timing of the two civil servants, Draco noticed the distinct smugness in his friend's expression. Even Potter didn't look as flabbergasted as he expected him to, though he didn't look very pleased either.

"My guess is that there's not much of a dispute left," Theodore then added dryly. "Which leaves us with the question…"

"What's going on between the two of you?" Harry interjected. For a moment, he wondered why Malfoy was holding the Muggle book, Hermione had been reading during lunch the past couple of days.

Theodore cast a sideward glance at him. "Not the question I had in mind myself, honestly," he confessed as he squeezed his eyes and cocked his head pitifully. "I was more thinking along the lines of - what in Merlin's name were you thinking for not taking this outside the Ministry? Did you feel like you wanted to get caught?"

But Harry ignored him and instead turned to Hermione, his expression questioning. "Hermione?"

He was met with a look full of confusion, shock, but above all, a plea for understanding that made his eyes widen.

At that moment, Theodore took him by the arm, shaking his head at him as he said, "If you still have some time on your hands, Potter, I would like to discuss a signal I've received this morning concerning a group of Siberian dark wizards coming to England next month. Perhaps this needs some attention from the Auror Department."

For a moment Harry stared at him with a fierce and probing gaze and just before Hermione thought that he would dismiss the former Slytherin, he turned around with a curt nod, casting a last glance at the pair in Hermione's office.

Theodore followed him, but not before nonchalantly twirling his wand in Draco and Hermione's general direction as he turned around, whispering something under his breath. The last thing Hermione heard Harry say to the former Slytherin following him outside was, "You owe me an explanation, Nott."

-x-x-x-

Their retreat left an awkward atmosphere in the small office. Hermione looked at the ground to hide her embarrassment. Draco was the first to break the silence with a deep sigh. "Perhaps I'd better leave. I don't want to get you into any more trouble…"

He cast a gaze at her that expressed both regret and melancholy as he made for the door. But then he was held back by a quiet voice.

"Draco…"

He looked back, meeting her caramel gaze for the first time after Potter and Theodore had burst in and brutally cut off the most magical moment in his life.

There was insecurity in those soft eyes, something he hadn't seen with her much, but then a small smile appeared on her lips that lit up her lovely features. How he loved her smile. It directly made him feel happier.

-x-x-x-

Hermione watched him as he stood there, noticing the softening of his troubled expression when she called him back. Something flickered in his eyes and after a moment of hesitation, he took a step toward her.

"Hermione… Do you need to be somewhere tonight?"

Her heart skipped a beat at his intense gaze. She answered his hopeful question with a thoughtful gaze. "Like a New Year's Eve party, you mean?"

A tingling sensation passed over her skin as she remembered her dejected assumption earlier this evening. He nodded, his expression suddenly tense.

"Actually, I do," she confessed and his face fell. "… But you can come with me."

Taken aback, he could only stare at her, not knowing what to expect.

"I've been invited to Hogwarts this evening to watch the fireworks on the fourth floor terrace."

In spite of Draco and Hermione's youthful assumptions, the teachers had actually noticed the absence of their two oldest students at the school's fireworks on that New Year's Eve seven years ago. Therefore, Hermione was surprised when she'd received the invitation from the wise Headmistress, who had read the newspaper as well. But, Hermione had gratefully accepted the offer of a safe haven for what surely would become a difficult night for her.

Draco's features softened and Hermione knew that he thought back of that night as well, when she had looked up at him in delight as his Patronus jumped around her, the bangs and flashes of multi-coloured fireworks at the background framing the mutual memory.

"I would like that," he agreed and his features lit up by a rare smile.

Then he took a few long strides back to her and drew his wand. "Perhaps we'd better tell her in advance."

The former Gryffindor nodded to this as she too drew her wand and they simultaneously spoke the incantation. An otter and a ferret sprang forth and nodded seriously when they had received their messages to convey.

As Draco and Hermione left the Ministry, their departure went by unnoticed as unbeknownst to them, they were protected by a benevolent spell cast by Theodore to repel curious spectators.

* * *

**A/N:** _I want to thank all of you who have left such wonderful reviews. I was very glad with your complimenting words on Slumpy's efforts to get Master Draco and Miss Hermione together and I feel so flattered by Flambemyheart's review._

_In this chapter, we come to know why Draco was so upset that one night he was too late for Patronus lessons. __And I'm deeply sorry in advance for Theodore and Harry spoiling the most wonderful moment in this story so far. I hope you can forgive me. I'm planning on making it up to you in the final chapter. At least Theodore's habit of putting people (Draco) under a spell without telling them, has provided them with a way of leaving the Ministry unnoticed._

_Thank you very much for reading!_


	11. Decision Reconsidered

**The Inspection on Elfish**** Labour**** Conditions**

**Part 2: Re-Inspection**

**Chapter 6: Decision Reconsidered**

Music: Two Steps From Hell, It's The Season For Love

* * *

"I will admit that I was surprised to see both your Patronuses appearing in my office this evening."

From above her small glasses the Headmistress sternly looked at her guests, but her features were softened by an approving expression as she spoke. She had awaited Draco and Hermione in her office in the Medieval castle, the several candles in the circular room casting a mysterious glow on the old witch. "But I'm glad to welcome the both of you at Hogwarts tonight…," She turned to Draco, looking at him pointedly.

"I'm glad you finally found the time to visit Andreas even though the time of the year is somewhat… surprising…," A furtive smile stole over her wrinkled face at his awkward expression as she provided him with a reason for being here at Hogwarts at New Years Eve, seven years after graduation. "What a coincidence that I had invited miss Granger to watch the fireworks at Hogwarts tonight as well. If I remember correctly, the both of you missed this event seven years ago…"

In the silence that followed her words, the Headmistress watched in mild amusement as her former students, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who used to be bitter enemies, stole a quick glance at each other before turning their gazes to the ceiling. Therefore, they failed to see that an indulgent smile passed over her old features as she watched the young people staring at the undoubtedly interesting ceiling. The sight lit up her old heart.

The Headmistress looked up when the rich sound of a gong sounded magically through the castle.

"I think it's time for dinner," she spoke on a soft tone as she motioned her unexpected visitors to follow her to the Great Hall. "As our honoured guests, you will be seated at the Head Table."

-x-x-x-

Like seven years ago, there were only a few students staying over during the holidays and by tradition the House Tables had been replaced by one table, long enough to provide the two Ravenclaws, two Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin with a seat.

For Draco and Hermione it was a strange experience to sit at the raised Head Table and have a panoramic view of the festively decorated Great Hall.

"This view only makes applying for a job as a teacher at Hogwarts worth considering," Hermione heard Draco mumble under his breath and a smile quirked at her lips. She was equally impressed with the scenery and imagined the rows of students sitting to dinner at their House Tables. Their gazes met for a moment and Hermione felt her heart flutter at the look he gave her.

She had felt like she was floating since they had left the Ministry without anyone noticing it, only vaguely wondering why the few people in the hallways seemed to look away the moment the Hermione Granger hastily passed by, accompanied by Draco Malfoy.

And when she'd stepped outside she'd half expected that she had imagined all that had happened before and that she was alone, alone in the cold winter night as the snow rushed around her in a flurry. But, when she turned around she saw Draco Malfoy standing right before her, snowflakes clinging to his hair.

"What are the coordinates?" He asked in a low voice, his gaze remaining fixed on her face as he extended his arm. For a moment, Hermione felt herself drown in those fierce grey eyes, silently asking her to accept the courtesy, as well as his wish to feel her touch once more.

Hermione took in a deep breath and a smile subconsciously passed over her features as she pulled up her hood. Then she reached out and put her small hand on his arm.

The next moment a flurry of snow took the place where the people had been standing before.

It had been Professor Slughorn who had awaited them at the castle gates, his keen gaze wandering over them as the pair walked up the stairs. And he remembered with a certain fondness the sight of those two former students when they had been squashed into the small desk in Potion's Class.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger. Well, well, it's good to see you. Good to see you, indeed." The look he cast them was both gleeful and melancholy at having his two favourite students back at Hogwarts. "My, my. What has it been since you two graduated with an Outstanding for Potions? Six years? Seven years? And you've found your respective ways in life, I see."

He cast a piercing gaze at Draco before he sighed in regret as he rubbed the expensive brocade spanning his wide belly. "After you two left school, I've never had such a talented couple in my class again. Such a pity…," He shook his head as he turned around and motioned them to follow him upstairs, to the Headmistress' office.

A slight puffing in his breathing betrayed his bad condition as they walked through the quiet corridors.

It felt strange for Hermione to be back and pass through the dusky hallways with Draco Malfoy and as she stole a quick glance at him, he seemed to be submerged in his memories as well. He turned his head when he felt her gaze on him and the intense look in his silver eyes made her heartbeat pick up pace. Even though The Daily Planet had tried to sully that delicate memory they both recognized the special feeling that had framed those days between Christmas and New Year's Eve. Like then, Draco and Hermione proceeded beside one another, paying no attention to Professor Slughorn who walked in front of them, speaking incessantly about his current seventh-year students.

Finally, they reached the portrait leading to the Headmistress's office and Professor Slughorn turned to look at them probingly if not a little hopefully. "Since you're both here, I wonder if you could spare some time to…"

From the corner of her eye Hermione looked at Draco who had difficulty keeping his face straight as his glistening gaze met hers. All of his chatter about his current students had led up to this question. A small smile appeared on her lips when she asked sweetly, "Yes?"

Suddenly, the portrait swung open and the Headmistress appeared in their view. Her piercing little eyes wandered from Draco and Hermione to the Head of Slytherin House who now looked particularly guilty. "Thank you, Professor Slughorn, for accompanying the guests to my office."

The way she spoke suggested that the ostentatious Professor had not been asked to do so. Then McGonagall cast a small, apologizing smile at Draco and Hermione.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, welcome back to Hogwarts."

-x-x-x-

And now six pairs of eyes were looking up in surprise at the young man and woman sitting next to their Headmistress, when they were briefly introduced by Professor McGonagall.

All, except for one. Amidst a third-year and a fourth-year sat an older student, who had risen from his seat the moment Draco had entered the Great Hall.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, as he looked up at him with a tense expression on his face. "Do you remember me?"

A silence suddenly descended on the Great Hall as every gaze rested on the seventh-year boldly addressing the unexpected guest.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he studied him. The boy was dressed in casual clothes but something in his bearing made him suspect the boy was a Prefect or a Head Boy. He was tall like only seventh-years were and contrary to that moment seven years ago, his dark hair was neatly combed now. There was a tense look in his brown eyes and something that looked like hope and fear of disappointment as he searched Draco's face for some sign of recognition.

After a moment in which she had her piercing gaze fixed on Draco, Professor McGonagall bowed forward, about to urge the boy to sit down and leave the guest be, when Draco stood up and nodded curtly but not unfriendly. "Yes, I remember you."

He then turned to the Headmistress. "Professor McGonagall, by your leave, I would like to have my dinner at the students' table. I believe there are some things to discuss."

The boy's face lit up at Draco's words and the Headmistress nodded approvingly as Draco, stared at in marvel by the younger students, sat down next to the boy he had once reluctantly but determinedly showed the right path to travel. That was the moment that dinner suddenly appeared on the tables.

Hermione picked up the golden cutlery at seeing the beautiful and no doubt delicious meal the Hogwarts house-elves had prepared for them. But, as she enjoyed dinner, her gaze was inescapably drawn to the young man sitting amidst the students, sometimes nodding at the things the seventh-year told him and sometimes asking him a question. Her eyes travelled over his regular features, lingering with his glistening grey eyes and the strand of blond hair he pushed back behind his ear subconsciously. The movement made her heart miss a beat.

Her mind still had troubles grabbing the unexpected turn of events. Was it only two hours ago that the young man sitting at the students' table below her appeared in her office, apparently inquiring after his book? It felt like only minutes ago that his face had been mere inches from hers, ready to finally close the last of the distance between them.

At that moment, he looked up and right into her eyes. Hermione flinched and lowered her gaze, but not before recognizing the expression in his. He felt just as unsettled as she did.

"He's come such a long way." Hermione heard an old voice say thoughtfully and, trying to fight the fierce blush, she turned her head to see the Headmistress looking down on the students with an unreadable expression on her face. "But, to see him now… Is to see hope for change personified."

The old woman cast a glance at Hermione, her gaze watchful and even somewhat melancholy. "Seven years ago, I already noticed that there was something between the two of you… something quite intangible that drove you both up to excellence at Potions - much to the excitement of Professor Slughorn I might add - and made you decide to teach Mr. Malfoy how to conjure a Patronus…"

A small smile played around McGonagall's lips as she watched Hermione pale and widen her eyes in utter astonishment.

"You thought this had slipped past the teachers' attention, didn't you?"

To her embarrassment, Hermione now felt a new blush creep over her cheeks. Suddenly, she understood that the nighttime lessons had only taken place because the teachers had allowed it.

"I thought it was important for the both of you," Professor McGonagall elaborated her choice, her stern gaze looking at Hermione piercingly, though a little smugness laced her tone. "It seems that I was right."

Hermione averted her gaze to the students' table, her eyes resting on Draco's blond head as he slowly ate his dinner and listening to the seventh-year talking.

"For the both of us?" She then slowly repeated the Professor's words.

McGonagall hummed in agreement as she looked away, her lips curled up in an indulgent smile. "When you think about it, your motives weren't as different from Mr. Malfoy's, weren't they?"

A thoughtful gaze appeared in Hermione's eyes as she remembered the long nights they had spent on that one spell and Draco's concentrated expression as he repeated the incantation over and over again with her eyes following his every movement… "I guess not…"

"You found a common ground with your mutual wish to break with the past, to proof that the world had changed for the better," the Headmistress completed her sentence. "It was what I had been planning on saying to you tonight, an old woman's hope for you to remember that common ground, before my office suddenly lit up with the shimmer of two Patronuses standing before my desk this afternoon… What happened?"

Hermione's troubled features softened. "A surprise inspection from the Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions happened," she then said quietly, an absent-minded gaze appearing in her eyes. "After a false complaint from a house-elf."

"So, house-elves have brought you your happiness," the Headmistress said thoughtfully and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Happiness?" She repeated, shocked and with a blush rushing to her cheeks. "I… I don't know…"

At that moment Draco turned around and looked at her, a worried expression flashing through his eyes as if he had sensed some of her agitation.

"Child…" Hermione then heard Professor McGonagall say next to her. "Put a stop to this situation. It's time to open your eyes."

* * *

It was only twenty minutes before the new year would take its rightful place in the history of time when the small group of teachers and students walked up the broad staircase toward the fourth floor terrace. From there the fireworks would be lit.

Draco quietly followed Hermione's silhouette, his eyes resting on her curls as they danced on her back. He still couldn't believe he was here, back at Hogwarts, with her, about to watch the fireworks they had missed seven years ago. Was it only one hour ago that they had arrived on this windy pasture after they had Apparated from the Ministry? The mere thought of the trusting way with which she had leaned into him, when he had taken her arm to prevent her from slipping on the frosted grass with her delicate shoes, still made shivers run down his spine. As he focused on Hermione's silhouette before him he feared that he was going to be woken soon, slapped in the face by Slumpy who would be squeaking that Master was having a nightmare again. And that he was left behind alone in his luxuriant bedroom, with an empty feeling in his heart.

Nevertheless, Draco had noticed that during dinner in the Great Hall her eyes had almost never left him as he sat at the students' table. Even when Professor McGonagall spoke to her and he was listening to Andreas he had felt her eyes on him. As he positioned himself near the balustrade on the fourth floor terrace he drew comfort from the knowledge that even during those moments he had not been woken up violently. He had to acknowledge that all that happened until now was very much real. There were worse things to acknowledge, he knew from experience as he followed Hermione's gaze as she was bowing over the balustrade.

Below them, Hagrid put the finishing touch to the large rockets which were about to hit the sky in a few minutes. When the half-giant straightened up, he waved. His greeting was answered by Hermione who wore a smile on her lips as Draco held himself at the background, feeling that it wasn't his place to wave back as well. Yet.

At that moment, their attention was pulled away by Professor McGonagall. "Within the next minute we will be going over to the next year. To celebrate this event we have some fireworks prepared for you."

She cast a stern look on her pupils, as if disapproving of them enjoying the upcoming spectacle, then started to turn around when she seemed to change her mind. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger…"

The two guests flinched at her sudden address as a dozen pair of eyes were suddenly glued to the pair at the balustrade.

But when they stammered, "Y-yes, Professor," feeling much like they were students again, an amused smile played around the old woman's thin lips.

Then she said motherly, "Try not to wander off this time."

After Professor McGonagall's words had trailed away, a lone bell tolled across the castle grounds and its far surroundings and brilliant fireworks lit up the dark sky. Streaks of red, blue, green and yellow tumbled around each other, forming balls of sparkling lights to dissipate in gold and silver drops raining down on the Hogwarts terrain.

True to his Seeker's eye, Draco had immediately recognized the best spot to watch the fireworks and he lightly touched Hermione's hand to draw her attention.

"From there you have the best view," he whispered as he had allowed himself to carefully turn her around, to see for herself.

As Hermione tried to ignore the beating of her heart, she noticed that he was right and carefully, she leaned against his chest. His steady heartbeat smoothed down the bangs of the fireworks as his body shielded her from the cold January wind.

Together, they watched rocket after rocket disappearing into the dark sky above until they exploded into down brilliant colours that rained down on the people on the terrace.

Finally, Professor McGonagall raised her wand for the last rocket to being kindled. At that moment, she suddenly turned around and looked at her two guests who had been standing there all this time, watching the fireworks like she'd asked - no, told them to do. A sly smile appeared on her thin lips, then she mouthed, "Go!" and gave them one last, piercing glance before she averted her attention to the rocket.

In the blissfully private fog of gunsmoke, created by the last rocket shooting away, Draco and Hermione disappeared inside. Neither one of them had to suggest that they would be going for a last stroll through the castle while everyone else was on the fourth floor balcony, watching the rocket forming a quill to describe a flaming H against the darkness of the January night.

Seven years ago, Draco and Hermione had missed the fireworks as their attention had been focused on the appearance of a ferret-shaped Patronus, filling the deserted Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with a soft silver glow that kept even the flashes of light coming from the fireworks at bay.

Now, Hermione listened to the sound of their footsteps echoing through the deserted castle corridors once more, feeling like it was only yesterday that they wandered through these corridors unnoticed. Inconspicuously, she studied her companion as they automatically headed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. His face had matured since the last time they had walked these hallways, showing a quiet thoughtfulness that enhanced his handsome features. Sometimes, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes and the look she saw in there made her feel strangely happy.

Much sooner than Hermione had expected, they were back in the old Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and she walked down the aisle toward the desk that was hers to sit on every night during that Christmas holiday.

Draco watched her silently as she took off her winter cloak and sat down on the desk with the most natural air, as if it hadn't been seven years since the last time she'd done so. Through a broken pane of glass in the leaded window the gunsmoke from the school fireworks drifted inside and from the nearby village of Hogsmeade, the continuing sounds of fireworks could be heard. Slowly, Draco followed the former Gryffindor and went to stand on his old spot before the blackboard.

As he raised a questioning eyebrow he chanced a sideways look at Hermione who watched him expectantly.

"For old time's sake," she encouraged him and smiled when he leisurely spoke the incantation and a brilliant ferret sprung from his wand. Glad to be free, it jumped around the classroom where time seemed to have stopped.

Being able to avert his gaze and attention from his Patronus since long, Draco slowly turned around to face the young woman on the desk. "For old time's sake and a little light in the darkness," he responded, his eyes softening at the sight of her.

She looked like a witch princess of old, the way she sat there in that beautiful green dress, her curls cascading down her shoulders as she looked up at him with those warm caramel eyes which were almost dark in the silvery light surrounding them. A small cloud of breath escaped from her mouth.

Draco took a step closer and determinedly took her winter cloak from the desk next to her. With a gentle movement that bordered tenderness he put it around her shoulders. "It's cold in here."

Then he lifted a hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "Happy New Year, Hermione."

Hermione's throat was parched when she looked up at him, vaguely noticing that the Patronus had taken up position before the door. Motionlessly, she drank in his features as his hand continued to caress her ear, then trailed down her jaw line. She didn't try to stop him, but instead leaned into his touch like she had done in his study. As his grey eyes held hers she saw that was thinking of that moment, too.

"I was a fool for letting you go," he whispered as he cupped her face with both of his hands. "What I should have done was this."

Then he leaned in and softly, tenderly kissed her.

To give in to the craving he'd been ignoring for the past seven years and feel the sensation of her lips pressed against his, caused a jolt of electricity to course through his body and Draco closed his eyes to revel in the moment of utter bliss.

Part of his jumbled brain expected her to back out now, as realisation of what was happening would dawn to her, but an indescribable feeling went through him when at the hitch of her breath against his mouth he felt her small hand hesitantly being placed behind his neck, pulling him in. The blood started to thunder through his veins when her lips slightly parted, welcoming him.

For a moment, he was stupefied and several shivers ran down his spine as he felt the gentle pressure of her hand behind his neck, but then he let go of his much too confusing thoughts and wrapped his arms around her like he had been dreaming of doing for so long. And as the kiss grew more passionate, he finally felt the happiest man on earth.

The moment he deepened the kiss, the ground disappeared underneath Hermione's feet. She closed her eyes and with a soft sigh that came from the depths of her heart, she welcomed him. When he closed the last distance between them Hermione's foggy mind realised that she must have slipped from the desk and a shudder went through her as he pulled her body against his own. The last thing she noticed was that she still had two arms free and she wrapped them around him before she gave in to the call of her heart.

After a few blissful moments that seemed an eternity, the sound of footsteps in the corridor jolted them back to reality.

"It's McGonagall," Draco knew with a glance at his Patronus. He looked at Hermione who was still resting in his tight embrace and he felt now was the time for this Slytherin to muster some uncharacteristic courage. "Hermione… Before McGonagall enters this classroom and tells us it's time to go, I will say this now…"

Hermione's breath hitched at his familiar words, reminiscent of that last Potions Class together.

The footsteps stopped before the classroom door. "Miss Granger? Mr. Malfoy?"

Then Draco's lips gently brushed Hermione's ear. "I love you."

Hermione's heart stopped and her eyes widened. His words resounded in her ears as she watched him turn to make his Patronus disappear. Speachlessly, she gazed at his features, which quickly turned to an impassive seriousness as he ran a hand through his hair. Then he slightly turned and his eyes softened before he raised his eyebrows in mock irony at seeing the brilliant smile that now lit up her bewildered face.

Draco watched with an absurd feeling of happiness as Hermione quickly positioned herself next to him and focused her glistening, caramel eyes on the door, which was being opened after a soft knock.

And as McGonagall entered the not so deserted classroom he caught the soft whisper that finally made him come home. "I love you, too."

* * *

EPILOGUE

It was already late in the afternoon, when the sound of a clear doorbell rang through the countryside house, built in a traditional style that was typical for South West England. The two people on the doorstep pulled their cloaks more tightly around them against the cutting, bleak wind as they waited for the owners to open the door, knowing that they were at home. Their coming had been announced.

Winter had come late this year. Not until the First of December the driving rain of November had been replaced by the first hesitant snowflakes. For tonight, though The Daily Prophet had prophesized for a snowstorm to rage over England, though.

The two visitors drew in a relieved breath when the door to what stood midway between a large cottage and a small country estate opened, revealing a small house-elf that looked at them with big eyes.

The wizard opened his mouth. "We're… here… bec… becau…"

His attempt failed miserably as due to the cold, his jaw had become completely numb. But, the house-elf kept looking at him with his big eyes, motionlessly awaiting his explanation.

At that moment, something stirred behind the small house-elf and a quiet voice said, "Let them in, Slumpy. They have an appointment."

The house-elf obediently opened the door and let the couple into the vestibule, before he walked through the french doors toward the modest hallway, where a man and a woman stood, waiting to welcome the visitors.

The man was tall with blond hair and cool, grey eyes. He had his arm wrapped around the slender waist of the woman, whose gleaming, chestnut curls touched his shoulder. In her arms she held a baby.

The woman's attentive gaze softened into a smile when the visitors entered the house. Seeing their discomfort, she raised her wand and softly spoke an incantation that had the cold immediately leave the numbed bodies of the visitors. "That's better, isn't it? I know it's a rather long walk from the main house."

A hesitant smile appeared on their lips.

"Thank you, Miss Gr…, I mean, Mrs. Malfoy," the female visitor said, stammering for a moment as she tasted the strange name on her tongue. She tried not to look at the man who raised his eyebrow in mild irony as she still remembered his cold, unrelenting expression from the first time their paths had crossed, when… Mrs. Malfoy had been part of the inspection team. Had that already been two years ago?

That inspection back then, which was supposed to have been only routine had unleashed a storm beyond comparison because of the supposed, hidden relationship between the now married couple. The female inspector had never found out if such a thing actually had been going on at the time, but what she did remember was that there had been something to Malfoy Manor - something the young inspector hadn't been able to understand - because of which the Manor had meant more than any other inspection location to Miss Granger. But, even if the suggested relationship had never existed at that point, it certainly had developed from that moment on.

When Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had gotten married, last year's summer, during a small, private ceremony, it was all The Daily Prophet had been writing about for a whole week. Only the marriage of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley this year had drawn more attention.

Involuntarily, the inspector's gaze travelled to the baby in Mrs. Malfoy's arms, born a few months ago. She was a delicate girl with downy, light blonde hair and caramel eyes looking at her curiously. The young woman's eyes softened and she took a step forward, letting the infant grip her finger when her mother smilingly nodded her consent. Much to the inspector's delight the little girl was then carefully being placed in her arms, her face turned so that she was still able to see her mother.

"She's beautiful, Miss… Mrs. Malfoy," the female inspector whispered, completely forgetting the purpose of her visit as she stroked the girl's cheek. Her words even made the faintest of smiles appear on Mr. Malfoy's reserved features.

Her male companion, however, cast a non-understanding glance at her and decided to have another try at stating their business.

"We're here to inspect the labour conditions of the house-elf in your residence, because two years have passed since the last final decision."

His gaze rested on Slumpy who bopped his ears at the attention, not seeing the nostalgic look the Malfoys exchanged at his words. "We've already wound up the inspection of the main house and since this house has gained possession of a house-elf since the last inspection two years ago…"

A charming smile lit up the young Mrs. Malfoy's features. "Please, skip the formalities. The inspectors of my Inspection on Elfish Labour Conditions are very welcome. I'm glad to see you."

The hospitable words of his wife made the reserved young man next to her suddenly come to life. He stepped aside and motioned toward a door in the back of the hall. "The kitchen is this way, if you'll follow me…"

With a tender gesture he momentarily let his hand rest on his wife's back who had taken over her little girl, then, as the inspectors proceeded toward the kitchen, he spoke more quietly, "You'll just put her to bed. I will be up in a minute."

* * *

"_I knew of my son's affection for you__ when he let slip the remark that you had taught the Patronus spell," Narcissa Malfoy simply said as her cool, blue gaze rested on the young witch before her when she opened the conversation. Her affected voice betrayed neither approval nor disapproval as she came to the point immediately. "I saw it in his eyes. A mother can see such things, even before realisation starts to dawn on her son as well. Of course my husband didn't suspect a thing."_

_A soft sigh escaped the aristocratic woman as she averted her eyes to the windows that gave a broad view on the garden, a vision of cold beauty. Hermione said nothing, giving the older witch a free reign as she waited. In between them sat the silver tea service, untouched. It was a silent witness of the first time Narcissa had invited Hermione for tea. The atmosphere had been tense, uncomfortable, when they sat down and for a moment looked at each other silently, before Narcissa took the teapot. With an elegant gesture she poured Hermione some tea, which had now cooled down, the cup still untouched._

"_I had hoped…" Mrs. Malfoy started, then continued on a softer, somewhat forlorn tone, "I had hoped that when he met with Astoria, that she could make him forget about… his feelings for you. Forget about you."_

_The words were slightly bitter but there was no reproach to them. Hermione bowed her head. She knew what Narcissa meant. For seven long years she had tried to forget about that intangible something that had been allowed to develop between them in school, which had affected Draco as much as her as she had gradually come to understand._

"_You didn't want him to get hurt," she finally spoke up, her voice soft. _

_Narcissa looked at her from the corner of her eye. It was a watchful gaze. "He had already been hurt. He had been the moment you both graduated from Hogwarts. He just didn't realise it. What I saw in his eyes back then, I… tried to ignore it and discourage the occasional moments he spoke of you."_

_Barely noticeable, Hermione nodded. "I understand. He had to get his life back on track."_

"_I hated myself for it," the older woman elaborated. "But I couldn't allow him to be drawn into the swamp of meaninglessness my husband and I have been in since…," Her voice trembled for a moment, then trailed away after the vulnerable confession. They were the words of someone with no hope, no direction, a wandering soul whose only remaining goal in life had become to spare her son the same fate. _

_A painful pang shot through Hermione's heart as she watched with silent admiration as the older woman took a deep breath to control herself and then looked up again. "Because of our actions, we have already taken his childhood from him. It's a guilt I'll always be carrying with me. I couldn't let him lose the rest of his life, too…"_

"_Because of me," Hermione added softly what the aristocratic witch had not wanted to mention. For Draco, she had been nothing short of the picture the Golden Trio made on the annual ball of the Order of Merlin, the one woman who was completely unattainable for him, because of their past, because of the war, because of what was expected of them in their future lives. On impulse, she leaned forward and put her hand on Mrs. Malfoy's ringed fingers. "I understand, Mrs. Malfoy. I can only hope that you believe that I love your son… from the moment I came to know who he really is."_

_For a moment, Mrs. Malfoy silently looked at the younger witch before her, whose words held a deeper meaning than it seemed at first sight. Hermione, the light of the golden Trio, had experienced the same feelings as Draco when returning to Hogwarts for her eighth year. A faint smile ghosted over her lips as the cool gaze in her eyes retreated to make place for a more tender one. "It's no matter of believing, my dear. I can see it in your eyes." _

_Then she stood and with a fluid movement, bowed forward to press a light kiss to Hermione's forehead. "Thank you, Hermione Granger. For loving back my son."_

* * *

Hermione carefully put her daughter into bed, making sure that the blanket completely covered her little body. A gentle smile graced her features when the infant turned her small head to look at her mother, then she took her wand and put the music box in motion. The soft sound of an enchanting, tingling melody filled the room as small specks of fairy-shaped light danced across the wallpaper dotted with blooming heather. She carefully fondled her daughter's soft cheek as she watched her caramel eyes, so similar to her own, closing slowly. Then she sat down in the rocking chair, waiting for Draco to come up.

Her thoughts trailed back to the moment, two years ago, when she had been standing at his doorstep with two inexperienced inspectors, the same young witch and wizard who were part of the inspection team today. So much had happened since then.

After a particularly smug Professor McGonagall had found them in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Draco and Hermione had Apparated from Hogwarts again, but not before they had promised to return for the seventh-year Slytherin's graduation. The ceremony in June had been their first public appearance as a couple.

* * *

_During the past year, Draco__ had been introduced carefully to the extensive family of Weasleys and Order members in which Hermione's life was embedded. They came to know a quiet but amiable young man, whose engaging behaviour won them over one by one. _

_Hesitantly, Draco entered a world which he had chosen for already a long time ago, but not until now actually became a part of it, gradually being accepted even by Ron. _

_The third time he visited the Burrow with Hermione, he had been asked to bring his broomstick for a game of Quidditch. The shimmer in Draco's eyes when Ron had made this sudden proposition, his ears turning a little red as if shocked by his own words, had not gone by unnoticed by Hermione who immediately remembered the moment when he had caught the Golden Snitch that had invaded the Potion's classroom. The look in his eyes now resembled the sparkle she'd seen in them back then as he agreed._

-x-x-x-

"_Wow, that's an old one…," Ron commented in surprise as his gaze wandered over Draco's broomstick the moment he entered the back garden__, then understanding started to dawn on him. In his own hands he held the newest Aeolus. The model had come out only a month ago. "Isn't that your…"_

"_A Nimbus 2001," Draco confirmed helpfully, obviously knowing what Ron had been expecting. "I haven't been able to play Quidditch since school, so there was no need to replace it for another one. It's a good broomstick."_

_The answer was honest, matter-of-factly, though a lonely tone laced his words. _

_Ron frowned."Well, it seemed as if the tables have turned, then." His well-meaning grin held only the slightest hint of a jab, to which Draco smiled amusedly. _

"_So,__" the young Malfoy said, "what position do you want me to play?"_

_Ten minutes later they were all up in the air, followed through the kitchen window by__ Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. As Harry naturally had taken his position as Seeker, Ron had decided for Draco to become Chaser, despite his Nimbus 2001 being slower than the Aoluses of the other ones. But, since Draco wasn't used to getting his hands dirty, so declared Ron, he would be useless as a Beater. _

"_He's really enjoying himself. It must have been a while since he last played Quidditch," Mrs. Weasley remarked as she summoned a spatula for the batter she was going to make, her sharp eyes not missing the melancholy smile ghosting over Hermione's lips as she watched the rough game. Draco barely dodged a Bludger being sent to him by George as he passed Harry the Quaffle. _

"_A while indeed," Hermione agreed. "This means a lot to him."_

_A smart look appeared on Mrs. Weasley's features. "Well, if he's going to be part of your life, then he won't be able to escape a game from time to time. The boys can certainly use a fair player, especially since Ginny barely plays with them anymore."_

_The tight hug she received from the young witch upon her warm and accepting words, had made her smile understandingly and she patted Hermione's back before pushing the bowl with batter in her hands to finish it up._

-x-x-x-

_Strangely enough, being introduced into Hermione's world also meant for Draco getting to know a part of his own family he had never met until the day he found himself playing wizard's chess against his six year old great-nephew as he was being watched thoughtfully by his aunt Andromeda, his mother's sister. Of course, he lost. He had been astounded to hear that little Teddy, whom he knew was his late cousin Nymphadora's son, was also Potter's godchild._

_When he had invited her__ and Teddy to come over to the Manor one time, because it would do his mother good, she had looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes before a smile lit up her embittered features. She had seen the slight worry flashing in his eyes when he thought about his mother._

"_You've become a good boy, Draco," she then said and had squeezed his hand before asking little Teddy to say goodbye to his second cousin Draco, to which question the child obliged a bit shyly. Not long thereafter, Draco appeared to be right. The restored contact with her long lost sister had done his mother very well._

* * *

Shortly after the graduation date, Hermione accepted a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, feeling that her task was done for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The Inspection on Elfish Labour Condition had become a well-oiled machine and had gained a respectable place in the wizarding civilization. It pained her to leave the Inspection behind, but she knew the inspectorate was in good hands. She had trained them well.

Hermione felt pride well up inside of her as she thought about the two inspectors downstairs, checking upon the working conditions of the single house-elf her small household counted. They were experienced inspectors now, examples for a new generation inspectors which were now in training.

The sound of the music box slowly died away and a subconscious sound of protest rose from the antique cradle, but as sleep had already overwhelmed Hermione's little daughter, she didn't wake up. Silently, Hermione waved her wand and the tingling music, softer this time, once again filled the sweet girl's room.

* * *

_The first moment they had been photographed__ together, had been the annual ball of the Order of Merlin. As was tradition the Golden Trio and their partners would arrive last, with Harry and Ginny arriving after their friends and brother. But, this year the shimmering of a bronze medal betrayed the first time presence of a tall young man with conspicuous blond hair among Harry's friends. He stood somewhat behind Hermione Granger with his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. His expression was a mixture of thoughtfullness and slight uneasiness as his gaze wandered toward the red carpet leading toward Diagon Alley Theatre._

_Hermione studied him, as they waited for their turn__. His sharp profile was a bit aloof, unreadable as he stood straight, reminiscent of that moment during Potions Class when they had been teamed up for the first time. But now his hand was holding hers in an inconspicuous way and when he noticed her looking at him, he answered her gaze with a softening of his eyes and a slight curling up of his lips, which caused a fluttering of her heart. _

_Finally, they were signaled to get ready __to enter the red carpet, as Ron whispered at them, "Would you please hurry up? We're freezing out here."_

_Draco __cast a secret glance at Hermione as they awaited their cue, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. Hermione looked absolutely radiant in the __slender, cream dress, dotted with gold stars that started on the back of the strapless bodice and flared out across the train. Uncharacteristically for her, her hair had been straightened and had been pulled into a low chignon, highlighting the beautiful line of her neck, as subtle gold makeup made her light brown eyes stand out. But, the most breathtaking was the smile on her lips actually reaching her warm, caramel eyes as Draco lightly put his hand on her elbow, __when they were signaled to proceed on the red carpet. _

_It had been the first time in all those years that he didn't count the steps left to the gold plated doors of the theatre, when they advanced on the narrow strip. A tender smile kept tugging on the corners of his mouth and for the first time he wasn't bothered by the cameras and the crowd. He cast a glance at the woman walking next to him and felt his heart fill with joy when she slightly turned her head and smiled at him._

_It was then that he recognized __the journalist dutifully covering the event for The Daily Prophet. Hearing the thunderous applause and yelling from the crowd, the scrawny man spun around and looked right into Draco's steel grey eyes. __His mouth fell open and as he backed away, his quill started to write as if the devil were at his heels. This event had suddenly turned into the scoop of the month._

_Drac__o couldn't suppress an amused smirk as he bowed toward Hermione, whispering, "This could become fun. Are you prepared to be in the headlines of tomorrow's newspaper again?"_

_This drew__ a smile from Hermione and he knew that, like him, she wouldn't mind this time. _

-x-x-x-

_The following morning, __the article on the ball was being published and the headline crowning the photograph of the couple contained the only statement on their relationship the journalist had been able to elicit from Draco before entering the theatre. 'Perhaps you gave us the idea.'_

* * *

The light sound of footsteps on the stairs preceded the moment the door to the nursery opened and a small ray of light crept over the antique cradle as the form of Hermione's husband appeared in the doorway. His sharp features immediately softened when he discerned the young woman in the rocking chair. Quietly, he closed the door behind him and went to stand by the cradle.

"Is she already asleep? Did I miss it?" Some regret laced his tone as he looked down on the peacefully sleeping baby girl and extended a hand to caress her little head. Tenderness and fondness had completely replaced the usual reservation in his cool, grey gaze as he drew his wand and renewed the spell that kept the music box going.

Secretly, he liked the peaceful, tingling music, Hermione knew, her expression softening as her gaze rested on the athletic figure of her husband, bowed over the cradle. His blond hair lit up in the early moonlight coming through the delicate voile curtains.

Over the past two months this had become her favourite moment of the day - the dusky image of Draco saying goodnight to his daughter took her breath away each night she witnessed it. Sometimes, he would whisper something unintelligible as he carefully put right the embroidered sheets.

With a fluid movement Hermione stood and quietly went to stand next to him, resting her head against his shoulder as she felt his hand curl around hers.

"She was tired," she whispered in response. "Is everything going well with the inspection?"

A dry chuckle rumbled in his chest. "As long as Slumpy doesn't submit a complaint again, it's fine with me." He rested his head on hers. "Though I'm grateful that he did, back then."

Hermione smiled in the darkness. "Me too."

She looked up, allowing herself to drown into his gaze, before he leaned in and sealed her lips with a loving kiss.

* * *

_Eleven years had passed when on a warm September evening a soft ticking against the window of the living room made Hermione and Draco look up from their books an expectant look in their eyes. Immediately, Hermione opened the window._

_The small owl that entered the living room, she recognized as Erica's. Her heart skipped a beat as she took the note from its paw, then let it fly off to the Owlery. Tomorrow, the owl would once again undertake the long journey to Scotland._

_After a moment's hesitation, she swiftly opened the envelope._

_As he watched her eyes flashing over the single word written on the parchment, Draco lowered his book and scrutinized her as fruitlessly tried to read her features. Then a warm smile, the smile he loved so much about her, lit up Hermione's beautiful features._

_"And?" Draco finally couldn't contain himself anymore as he raised his eyebrows impatiently. He rose quickly, walked over to his wife and looked over her shoulder to eagerly read the small note. _

_When he looked up, a smile of his own softened his reserved features. Once again he felt amused by the course of things. He wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and gave her a quick peck on the lips. _

_"Ravenclaw. She's been sorted into Ravenclaw."_

* * *

**A/N:** _And this is truly the end of the story._

_I want to thank all of you who have reviewed the previous chapter and expressed such enthusiasm for the story. And thank you CheyGrl94, ReiSakura, semantics, SnowCharms and Sushiking for being there all the time with wonderful reviews. I'm going to miss you guys. _

_As you can see, I've put an epilogue into my story, but it's one which also contains a view on the development of Draco and Hermione's relationship after that first kiss on New Years Eve, seven years after they repeated their seventh year at Hogwarts. _

_Erica is their little daughter, born a year after they got married. Her name is the Latin name of the flowering plant Heather__ which represents the sign Scorpio. This way the name combines the names Rose and Scorpio from the canon epilogue. _

_I've named the newest models of __racing brooms after the Greek god of the winds: Aiolos. _

_I hope you all like the ending to the story (a happily ever after, just as you hoped for!) and thank you very, very much for reading!_

_Boo-82_


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